Grace
by R.Rettler
Summary: Grace didn't remember much, but that was alright because WCKD was being very helpful with filling in the gaps. "There are these boys," Doctor Paige said, "and we want you to find them." / Continuation of ALLEN [RE-WRITE] (Scorch Trials)
1. Chapter 1

****YOU DO NEED TO READ "ALLEN" BEFORE YOU START THIS STORY****

 **Hello :) I quit my job and am currently waiting to start my next one, so here I am. "B.T" still stands for "Before Thomas" which means that section of the chapters are flashbacks. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Scorch:**

Newt stood in the middle of the room surrounded by boys. His arms were crossed and had a scowl painted across his face. The new clothes he wore provided by the Janson and his people itched his skin which only irritated him further. He was in a foul mood and he had no one to blame but himself.

"How did you _not know_?" He shot at his remaining friends. Hardly half of them had made it out of the Maze.

Minho stood, his fists clenched tight just as annoyed as Newt was. "Don't blame this on me shank! It ain't my business what Allen was or wasn't."

"You've known him-," Newt caught himself, **_"-her_** the longest how could you not know?!"

"Since when was it normal to go around checking what was in other peoples pants you slint-head! Never! It's not like its normal conversation neither to ask what you got between your legs. Shuck off!" Minho pursed his lips. They could yell at each other for the rest of their lives, blaming one another for not knowing about Allen, but when it boiled down to it they both had known. They had known for a long time. Minho's subconscious figured it out the day after Greg had died and Newt had put it together when he had cornered Allen to eat the day Teresa woke up. They were angry at themselves, not really each other, for choosing to ignore the signs.

The rest of the Gladers stood along the walls, sat on the floor, or laid in the bunk beds that had been provided in their room and watched. Even Thomas knew he didn't belong in this argument. It ran deeper than his existence in the Glade did.

"You knew Al' better than anyone and you're tellin' me that you never even _considered_ the idea that he wasn't one of us?"

"I knew Greg better than anyone." Minho said in a hiss. The memory of his lost friend still stinging. "He made me promise to look after Allen so I did. If anyone knew the shank it was Gally and look where he is now."

"Gally knew," a reluctant voice spoke. All heads turned to face Zart who sat next to Frypan. The two had been conversing the entire time Minho and Newt had been arguing. He had turned to his friend to seek advice on if to reveal that he knew Allen was a girl. Frypan didn't believe Zart at first, but once he explained their run-in in the woods and the conversation he had with Alby it was hard to not believe him. "Alby told me that Gally knew Allen was a girl."

Newt gawked at him. "Alby told _you_?" It wasn't meant to be rude but in the heat of the moment it came out that way.

"That's right," Zart said defensively. "In the homestead the day after the Grievers came. Allen had -," he summoned the courage, "- Al' had told him that she thought I had figured it out. So he was talkin' to me tellin' me not to tell anyone. Said that Gally and I were the only one that knew besides him."

Both boys were in disbelief.

"Alby knew?" Thomas asked for Newt and Minho.

Zart nodded. "Sounded like he had only just figured it out too. Said he dreamed it up after being stung, like Gally had with you Thomas. Was real serious about it though."

"He say anything else?" Newt's anger disintegrated at the words of his dead friend. Zart shook his head. He swallowed back his sorrow and stood a lot less defensively in the room. Newt was tired and beaten. While the new clothes, shower, and fresh food had done a world of help it still didn't erase the years of torment that the Maze had inflicted on him or any of the other boys.

Minho relaxed as well. He was arguing with the wrong people, blaming the shocking news on someone who wasn't at fault. Minho looked at Zart for a moment, as if searching for some sort of flaw in the story. When nothing stood out he dropped his gaze.

"I think it'll be best if we ask Allen all these questions, right?" Thomas took advantage of the mood shift and tried to rally the troops. "This place isn't so bad. Good food, beds, could be a lot worse. I'm sure Teresa is in a similar place and Allen is getting help. If we ask Janson to see them he'll let us. We'll do it tomorrow."

The remaining Keepers all nodded their head in agreement. A plan helped defuse the situation. They would see Allen tomorrow and make sure she was ok. Minho would apologize and Newt would most likely try to do the same before being overwhelmed with guilt.

Unfortunately that would not be the situation. The Gladers would find Janson tomorrow and make the request only to be denied. Allen was stashed away deep underground in a white room with tubes tucked into all her veins. Doctors in white coats came in and out of her room all day and night, checking vitals and looking for unseen flaws. They had taken Allen away and immediately knocked her out for two reasons; the pain she would have to endure to fix the burned hand, infected skin, and other miscellaneous injuries would cause even the most elite men to pass out and WCKD didn't want her fighting them.

WCKD had felt conned by Allen. Of all the children they had screened and analyzed, Allen and Greg were low on their list of concerns. The description of "autistic" had masked Allen's true gender and explained her characteristics for far too long. The original individuals in charge of her files and approval for the Maze were promptly fired or simply thrown out to the Scorch for their error. The rest of them that were too high up to be fired scolded themselves for making such a grave mistake. If Allen hadn't taken it upon herself to hide what she truly was than the whole trial would have been voided and a complete loss. In a way Ava Page owed Allen a great thanks for not destroying everything, in another she wanted nothing more than to ruin Allen's life just like Allen had almost ruined hers.

* * *

 **B. T.**

Allen watched as her brother disappeared over the Maze wall and out of sight. She blinked and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The vine had disappeared from her hands but they still hung in the air as if it remained there. She blinked again and let her hands fall to her side.

There was no way to process what just happened.

Her legs started to move slowly on their own, her mind wanting to see what her heart didn't. Allen walked the few steps to the side of the wall and looked down.

Several feet below a scene from a horror movie was on pause. To the right was Newt, rolling in pain with a sharp piece of white bone sticking out of the skin by his knee. To the left was Greg, his legs bent at an unnatural angle, arms tucked under him as if he had tried to catch himself, and what remained of his head had splashed across the ground and people near him. Alby, Minho, and Gally stood frozen as if the blood from their friend had paralyzed them.

Allen thought nothing as she moved away from the edge and back towards the way that her and Greg had scrambled up. She looked down at their path. It would be hard, but not impossible if she kept a firm grip on the vines.

With no fear, and nothing else to lose, Allen kneeled-down and gripped on to the first vine to crawl over the side of the wall backwards. Placing one foot into the cracks in the wall at a time, and only taking hold of vines that looked firm, Allen made her way down to the Maze floor. When she reached the bottom an uneasy breath of air let itself go. It dawned on her that she had slightly hope to make a mistake and fall to her own death.

She walked around the walls and back into the horror movie that was now her life. Newt was still on the ground crying in pain from his broken leg with only Alby trying to help him. Gally and Minho had stepped closer to Greg's body but couldn't do anything, and simply gazed at him in disbelief.

Gally acknowledged Allen first and moved to block her view of her dead twin but it didn't work. Allen put a light hand on Gally's shoulder and pushed him out of her way. She wasn't screaming or frantic, Allen was calm and it caught Gally so off guard that he stepped aside and let her pass. The only indication that Allen understood what had happened were silent tears that had started to stream down her face. She stopped a foot away from Greg's body and looked down at him. It was worse close up. His legs weren't only twisted at odd angles, but completely crushed. The shirt he was wearing was pitched up on his right shoulder blade from a bone that had broken through the skin. Blood continued to leak from his head and out from underneath his torso. Tears began to flow harder down her cheeks and a choked breath of air was sucked in.

No one came to comfort her. No one knew how.

She stared down at her twin a moment longer, resenting every minute of it. The longer she stood there the more detail that was engraved into her memory. The slight breeze that rushed through the Maze and ran across her shins, the popping noise that one final bone made under distress, the difficulty of Minho breathing, Gally's presence stationed behind her and Alby's murmurs trying to help Newt.

Allen gave her brother one last gaze before turning and leaving the Maze.

"Allen, wait -," Gally was torn between the two situations. Making sure Allen was ok or staying to assist Alby with Newt and Minho. He didn't turn to acknowledge Gally. His legs carried them forward leading her out of the Maze to never return.

This wasn't supposed to happen today.

She wanted to die with Greg and a majority of her did.

* * *

 **Let me know what you think! - Alison**


	2. Chapter 2

"What happened to her hand?" Janson leaned down to inspect the wound a little closer.

Ava Paige sighed and pursed her lips, "trying to be a hero like the rest of them apparently – she threw a burning stick at one of the machines which lead to infection. Foolish if you ask me."

He stood up right and looked at the rest of Grace. "Starved, burned and badly beaten all while hiding her identity." Janson trailed off eying the fading bruises around Grace's neck. "Must be stubborn to have lasted this long."

"Actually -," Doctor Paige unfolded a screen from her pocket and pulled up Grace's files, "we believe she's developed a severe case of Dissociative Identity Disorder and PTSD. Allen, her alternative personality, seems to be what got her through the Maze. I had my people rewatch some of the videos from the trial and noted her specifically. In the beginning we should have caught the act and taken her out but because she survived so long and after the death of her twin, Grace started referring to herself as "they" or talked directly to Allen, assuming Allen's personality was replying internally."

Janson held his hands behind his back and wondered what all of this would lead to. "Allen, Grace-" he pulled his gaze away from the girl and up to meet Ava, "doesn't matter really, does it? Do you have an idea of how you want me to handle the issue?"

Ava Paige took a deep breath, "the question is whether or not we want to keep her in play for the future trials." She folded the screen back down, "It's very apparent reflecting on the data that the main ones are attached to her. Newt, Minho, and Gally before he was taken out. I suspect her resilience inspires them, especially now that they know her true self. If we take her out, kill her, throw her to the scorch-," Doctor Paige enjoyed listing the ways they could end Grace's existence, "then the rest of the boy's will most likely move on. Another friend lost, another heartache in the books. We could study it and the possibility of what a lost love would have on the brain for a few of them but there would most likely be minimal benefit to killing her."

"And if we keep…them?" Janson gave a coy smile, adding humor to a jokeless situation.

"If we utilize Grace we could potentially throw in an additional mini-trial. Minho is particularly attached to her, so is Newt. It would be interesting to see if affection or loyalty has any impact on independent versus dependent variables when it comes to the cure. Does lust drive us forward? Will Minho's immunity heighten in potency if he believes that he has to live longer to stay with Grace? Will Newt possibly develop an immunity to the Flare if he also finds a partner?"

"Pardon me, Doctor Paige, but you're talking about _Puppy Love_ and _adolescent crushes_." Janson nearly spit in disgust.

Ava Paige tilted her chin up and glared at him, "it won't really be love by the time we're done with them, Janson. All it is really is dopamine being released in the brain. Adrenaline. Hormones. Another flaw in our society that we do have to acknowledge – _love."_ She hissed the last word, "If it offers useful data, perfect. If it doesn't, then we've lost nothing."

They stood in the sterile white room letting their minds churn out all the possibilities. If there was something that could stimulate the teens immunity to the Flare it would be ground breaking. The potency of the cure could rise, possibly solving the problem of life expectancy for the serum. The idea was enticing. It would be difficult to tell with such a small assessment, only _two_ boys technically, but if Minho's immunity to the Flare rose or if Newt developed an immunity – _even just the slightest amount_ – it would be groundbreaking. It's true, WCKD stuck to poking and prodding, torment, and stress to ignite their immunity. They've never tried affection. One could argue that they had already done this experiment with Thomas and Teresa but those two were already at the peak of ideal genetics. Thomas falling in love with Teresa did nothing because he could hardly go any further. He was the ideal candidate and everyone else fell short in comparison. But, maybe this new variable could raise the rest up. "They've already asked about her and Teresa once, I suspect the boys will ask again soon. How would you like us to reintroduce her?" His voice was low and quiet, enjoying the formation of another abuse.

The fierce features of Ava Paige froze for a moment while she contemplated her next words. "Heal her. Wipe her memory. For god-sake make her eat something. We'll give her a purpose, a new motive –," she gave her hand a slight wave unable to think of something on the spot, "then reintroduce her. Preferably before we start harvesting them like we have the rest. Move Minho to one of the last groups selected, keep Newt around longer than intended. Give them more time to get a feel for her." Doctor Paige took a deep breath then let it out slowly, she had better things to do then stand here and it was time to move on.

Janson had one last question though, "why wipe her memory if we're just going to put her back?"

Paige had already started to turn and leave the room but she answered as she walked out the door. "Too much trauma, Janson. I want an effective experiment not one that will sit curled up in the corner crying. Wipe her memory. They'll know who she is, that's enough."

The clicking of expensive heels hitting a cold floor sounded as Ava Paige left the room. With a soft snap of the door closing, Janson was left alone with Grace. "They've been asking about you," he muttered to her. "I'll never understand why, to be honest, I've seen some of the tapes. They treated you like shit. None of them will be here much longer anyways and neither will you. The camaraderie between this group is unprecedented and quite honestly _annoying_." With a bitter taste in his mouth he turned to follow his boss out of the room.

Grace spent the next two days unconscious. WCKD had taken her off the anesthesia the day prior but her spirit was so tired that she stayed asleep for an extra 18 hours. They had applied all of the most advanced medical procedures for burn victims to Grace's hand. She had been given antibiotics through an IV and antibiotics applied directly to the skin on her hand and chest. WCKD cleaned her, sewed her wounds, tube fed her, and even trimmed Grace's hair. The day she woke up was the same day that Thomas, Newt, Minho and the rest of the Gladers executed their great escape.

They had tried to find her but were flustered when Grace was not in the same room as Teresa. "Do you know where she is?" Thomas had asked her urgently as he pulled Teresa out of bed.

Teresa furrowed her brows in confusion, "Who?"

"Allen - !" Minho responded for Thomas as he threw open a closest door hoping that there would be a second bed with Grace in it. "- Grace! Whatever her name is now!"

"N-no," Teresa said trying to regain her footing, "no one else is here but me."

The clamoring outside grew louder as Janson and his men approached. Newt looked to Thomas and then the one-way monitoring window in Teresa's room. Reading each other's minds, they both picked up a hard object and swung it at the window in unison. The glass shattered and an exit was created.

"This way!" Thomas shouted to the group.

"What about Al'?" Minho said frantically. He had been overwhelmed with guilt. Thomas had promised they would get both girls, not just Teresa. Minho couldn't leave Allen behind, he had promised Greg.

Newt abandoned Thomas's side and went to Minho, "we'll find her. I promise, Minho. I want her out of here just as much as you do but we have _to go._ " Just as he finished talking something hit hard up against the door. Newt pulled at Minho to get him going and the pair hopped through the window to follow Thomas and the rest of the group.

They sprinted down the hallway to an automated closing door. The group didn't make it on time to slide under and were cornered in the hallway as Janson's army approached. With a stolen firearm, Thomas rushed out to meet them. "We're not going with you Janson!" He yelled.

At a brisk walk, Janson gave a dark smile knowing that his prize was in reach. "Don't be foolish, Thomas!"

"Where's Allen!?" Thomas yelled at him as they got nearer, pointing the gun and ready to pull the trigger.

"There's no Allen here!" Janson yelled back, enjoying his victory a little too early.

"Yes there is, don't lie to me! The other girl we came here with. Grace!"

Janson just chuckled and began to jog as the distance between him and the Gladers closed. Thomas fired off a few shots from the gun before it clicked with an empty magazine. He threw it and ran back to the door as it began to grind open. On the other side was Frypan, Zart, and Aris waiting for them. The group exchanged gratitude for each other and urgency before running off again and escaping WCKD's facility without Grace.

A woman burst through Grace's room a few hours later after the Glader's were unable to be located. She was a stern looking woman with a double chin and a large pot belly. The shoulders on her lab coat were tight and she was unable to button it in the front. In the time of extreme poverty and hardship, Doctor Levish had managed to gain weight. She huffed over to Grace's bedside and began to turn off her IV's.

Grace had been in and out for most of the evening, unable to focus clearly. She wasn't sure where she was or who she was. All she knew was that she felt awful and her skin itched. When the IV's had been cleared and Grace's mind finally had a minute to come out of the haze she woke up slightly confused but calm. "Hello," Grace said quietly to Dr. Levish. The woman looked down at Grace without answering as she tidied up around the room and put a pair of rubber gloves on. Grace tried to sit up in the bed and only managed to prop herself up on the pillows.

"Give me your hand," Dr. Levish held out her open palm waiting for Grace to put her hand out.

Grace gave a week smile and trustingly gave Dr. Levish a hand, "where am I?"

"Your _other_ hand." The portly woman demanded.

A little taken aback, Grace dropped the one hand and lifted her other. It was the first time she had noticed her left hand. It was curled in on itself and covered in fresh new pink skin. There were caverns and canyons left in the skin where thick white scar tissue had started to build. As Grace brought it over to put in Dr. Levish's hand a small whisper came out of a black void in her mind, _"the shucking thing will be useless, just wait 'n see."_

"What happened?" Her voice broke in to a quiver.

* * *

 **B.T.**

Frypan would always remember watching Allen walk out of the Maze that day. He had been sitting on a tree stump cleaning pans with a metal bristle brush and trying to figure out how they could get food to burn so badly that it stuck to the pots. It was only noon and the movement caught Frypan off guard because Alby had told him no one would be coming back until later that day. He watched Allen for a minute and then gave a big smile and wave to welcome one of his new friends back. "You're back early!" Frypan yelled out, grabbing Allen's attention.

He stopped mid walk at the voice and turned to face its source. Allen had a hard time seeming through the water pooling in her eyes. All he saw was a blurring blob squatting near the ground. After wiping her eyes he was able to see the Greenie sitting by himself surrounded by a pile of kitchen equipment that she and Gally had hidden because it had gotten so dirty. Allen swallowed a lump in her throat and started marching towards the Greenie.

As he got closer Frypan started to note the distressed features of Allen. His face was pale except for the cheeks and nose that were bright red. His hands were continuously opening and closing in an anxious tick, occasionally shaking them aggressively at his side. Frypan stood up, getting more nervous as Allen approached. "Hey now-," Frypan raised a hand not sure if Allen was going to reach out and hit him or collapse at any second, "- everything ok?"

Allen stopped a foot away from Frypan sensing his unease. He wiped his eyes once more and then opened his mouth, "something went wrong," he choked out. "They need your help."

Frypan's eyes darted nervously from Allen to the opening in the Maze. He had been warned to not go in the Maze without Alby first and with Allen's appearance the Greenie wasn't entirely sure he _wanted_ to go in the Maze right now. "What happened?" He took a courageous step forward towards the Maze, signaling to Allen that he was willing to follow.

His jaw clenched and Allen's breath hitched. "Newt fell." Was all he could push out before turning and storming back towards the Maze.

Frypan was hot on his heels the entire time but was finding it difficult to keep pace. It's one thing he had noted about the group, everyone was so damn _fast._ As the two neared the opening of the Maze Frypan had only a moment wallow in how daunting the thing was. Everyone else had had time to adjust to the Maze the first time they were allowed in but he only had a second to look up before the rest of the group came around the corner.

It was another image that would forever be engrained in to Frypan's memory. Alby had one hand clenched tightly on Newt's belt loop supporting him from the side while the other held on to Newt's arm slung around Alby's shoulder. Newt was barely jumping on one leg - more like being dragged - with his head rolling from side to side. An expression of pain etched on his face. Behind them were Minho and Gally, with what could only be Greg wedged between them. Everyone was splattered and stained with blood. Frypan felt his stomach twist as both Newt and Greg got closer. He closed his mouth tight to try and keep himself steady but when it dawned on Frypan that Greg's head was smashed open and he was dead, all he could do was turn to the side and vomit.

Seeing Greg again made everything true. She had thought that maybe if she walked away and came back again it would all be a dream. A trick on the eyes. But there he was. Her twin's limp body being dragged between Minho and Gally. Both boys looking tortured by the task as their dead friend's congealing blood trickled on to their clothes and skin. Minho had tears sticking to his cheeks, one side brighter than the other like someone had slapped him. Gally seemed to relax an inch when he saw Allen unharmed and still standing.

Allen's attention turned from Greg to Newt and pure anger surged through them. She screamed in rage and all hell broke loose.

Frypan stood by useless as Allen reached down and picked up a large rock before lunging at Alby and Newt. The boy's arm swung out wide and caught Newt right in the temple. He crumpled like a bag of potatoes. "Allen!" Alby roared trying keep Newt's unconscious body on his feet. Between screeches Allen swung again and again as Newt's head got closer to the ground.

Gally and Minho hurriedly laid Greg down gently and ran to help Alby. Gally reached Allen first, putting both hands on Allen's free arm. The touch flung Allen's attention from Newt to Gally and she swung the rock at him, hitting Gally right in the ear. The pain sent Gally backwards. Minho was smarter and came up behind Allen, grabbing him around the waist. He lifted Allen away from Newt, pulling the widowed twin off his feet easily and restraining him with minimal effort. "Allen stop!" Minho tried to yell, but Allen just yelled louder by screaming incoherent noises and words at Newt.

Minho had his face safely pressed up against Allen's spine so the rock he was wielding couldn't reach him. Gally recovered and went over to assist, dodging and ducking Allen's swinging arms until the opportunity finally came to grab hold of the rock and tear it out of Allen's hands. Weaponless Allen reached out and starting swinging with his nails, digging them into Minho's arms trying to get him to let go.

While Gally and Minho were trying to subdue Allen, Alby was trying to hoist Newt up and drag him away from the fight. "Wake up, man. Come on!" He shook him as they walked. Alby couldn't get a clear look at the additional damaged done but saw that Newt's head was bleeding through his hair. Alby would never have been prepared enough to handle this series of events. He had no idea where to start. A million different issues crossed his mind. Alby had no formal medical training. There was no help for Greg at this point, he knew that, but he couldn't ignore a dead Glader either. If he got to the Homestead he might be able to push Newt's bone back in. Alby considered waiting until Allen calmed down to have him do it, but quickly opted out of that option. There was only one thing that Alby knew for sure and it was to not let Allen anywhere near Newt right now. He dragged Newt away further and further feeling the weight of the boy grow heavier as the adrenaline began to wear off. "Wake up!" Alby said in frustration. With some relief, Newt managed to make a meager noise in response.

There was a sharp ' _clink!'_ noise from behind them. Alby gave himself only a second to look over his shoulder at the scene behind him before he continued to the Homestead.

Minho was still holding Allen off the ground from behind while Gally gripped on to both of Allen's hands. Frypan stood close by with a blackened pan high above his head, ready to use again. Allen wasn't resisting anymore. His legs hung loosely a few inches above the ground, arms limp in Gally's hands. It was finally quiet again and Alby couldn't be more grateful. He focused back on his destination and prayed that someone, anyone, would come and help him with Newt next.

Gally let go of Allen's hands and went in to help Minho carry the unconscious Glader.

"Go," the runner huffed, beginning to shift Allen around on his own. "Take the shucking newbie and go with Alby." Minho rolled Allen and threw him over his shoulders with a new found look of determination.

Gally bit the inside of his cheeks. "What about Greg?"

Minho couldn't even bring himself to look at the body. "He's not going anywhere," the words were hard to say. Gally gave a weary nod before motioning for the Newbie to follow.

Minho walked in the opposite direction of the Homestead. Although he and Alby hadn't spoken, he would agree with Alby that Allen should not be anywhere near Newt. As he got further from the Homestead Minho felt a hand press up against the small of his back and push. There was a low groan from Allen that made him walk a little faster.

Allen's other hand began to push against Minho's back, trying to prop himself upright. Minho reached the opening of the tree line in the Glade and tossed Allen over his shoulder and on to the ground. He felt kind of bad about the aggressive toss, but couldn't go about it any easier. Allen landed with a thump that made him roll off his tail bone. He was trying to figure out what happened when Minho stepped close and hunched down over him.

"Stay. Here." Minho demanded. Allen managed to look up at Minho who was clearly torn into a million pieces. "Do you understand me?"

Allen tried to push himself up off the ground but Minho shoved him back. "STAY. HERE." He pointed a finger in Allen's face, "If I come back and you're not here, I swear on everything I love you'll regret it. STAY. HERE." Minho didn't wait for Allen to respond before turning and running towards the Homestead to help with the horror of shoving Newt's shin bone back in to his leg.

* * *

 **The support of everyone following and reviewing this story is so encouraging! Thank you.**

 **A quick answer from some of the questions left in reviews; yes. This story is following the original plot that I had for "Grace" (as you can now see from this chapter). The nice thing about "Grace" is that I was had not posted many chapters before taking it down for the re-write of "Allen." In the previous posting I was jumping between Grace's perspective and the Glader's until they eventually met up. In this version I have decided to instead continue on with the Before Thomas sections to elaborate on some of the trauma that Allen endured and was briefly mentioned but was never written about in detail. The biggest issue I actually had with the original story was how I glazed over the aftermath of Greg's death and Allen turning out to be a girl. I didn't like it and am working very hard to add in that section of the story.**

 **Also, thank you for all the sweet comments about my new job! I start July 23rd, so I have a whole month to write and post for you guys!**

 **Let me know what you think of this chapter and have a great weekend :)**

 **\- Alison**


	3. Chapter 3

Something wasn't making sense. People were talking at her and trying to tell her what had happened but it didn't connect. Dr. Levish poked and prodded her with an expression that made Grace feel like a burden. A man came in named Janson and talked to her in a hushed tone. Other doctors funneled in all day and night taking samples, asking questions, looking at her levels. It was making Grace stir-crazy. They wouldn't let her get up or go outside. As the hours ticked by she struggled more and more to put up with the needles and pills. She'd ask if she could leave and go for a walk, even if it was just around the halls, but everyone said no.

"No, you'll get lost."

"No, no one is allowed to wander."

"You can't go outside, it's not safe."

"There's nothing going on out there, stay here."

Janson just never acknowledged her requests and skipped from one topic to another, not actually listening to anything she had to say. He talked to her about her hand and how brave Grace was for living through such an ordeal. He talked about the scars on her skin and how awful it all must have been. Janson was a liar. Grace could smell it on him. Every other word Grace took with a grain of salt. Tortured by a group of boys because they figured out she had worked for WCKD, he had told her. Hardly any of it made sense, but the void in Grace's mind prevented her from figuring it out.

Dr. Levish messed up when she brought in a cart full of objects for Grace to look at. It was either really late or very early in the morning based on the bags under the Doctors eyes. She was tired, her makeup faded, hair wrapped up and out of the way. Grace decided it was most likely late in to the night.

The cart Dr. Levish pushed in front of her had a squeaky wheel. It irritated Grace beyond recognition. She hadn't slept either. The doctors wouldn't let her with how often they came in and poked her. Grace's good hand rolled in to a tight fist as she watched Dr. Levish wheel the cart all the way around before stopping next to her bedside.

She glared up at portly woman with distain before dropping her gaze to identify the objects. There were seven seemingly random tools on display. A rusted frypan used well beyond its life span. An old hammer. A foot worth of thick rope with one end cleanly cut and the other frayed. An axe with a worn handle smudged with blood and dirt. There was a large empty needle with purple residue still inside next to a small fitting backpack and a well coiled bundle of dead vine.

Dr. Levish checked Grace's vitals quickly then pulled over a chair and sat next to her and the cart. She took a deep breath and eyed a small screen ready to take notes. "Starting with the first object on the left, can you please describe what you see?"

"Trash." Grace muttered. Her eyes scanned the items again and landed on the hammer. _Just hold it and keep your eyes open to watch where you're going_. She shook her head lightly trying to shake the distant ' _clinking_ ' noises that vibrated out after the boy's voice.

"I'm asking you to identify the objects, _what are they_?" Dr. Levish pressed.

Grace scooted up in her bed. "Well what you got here is a pan, you cook things in it." With a dead expression she pointed at the frying pan and eyed Dr. Levish with the same annoyed look that she was giving Grace. "You use this _hammer_ to build things." She opened up her eyes real wide and started to talk slow, as if to a child. "And this here is what we call _RO-PE_." Grace was beginning to reach her limit.

Dr. Levish's had this expression of pure hate as she realized that Grace was mocking her. She hated children. All of them. "You should know what this is since you and everyone else here enjoy _stabbing_ me with one so often." Grace continued, "this is a backpack that probably won't fit you and that is a piece of yard trash, otherwise known as a _dead plant."_

Dr. Levish narrowed her eyes, "you missed one," she hissed, not breaking eye contact with Grace.

"Oh, you mean this?" Grace grabbed the handle of the axe. It felt warm in her hand. The contours of the wood fitting perfectly into her palm. "This is a weapon with a real sharp edge. It's called an axe."

In her stubbornness, Dr. Levish didn't flinch when Grace picked up the axe. As if daring her to make a move. "Do any of these objects mean anything to you?"

Dr. Levish was slow, Grace realized. She was clunky and tired and on edge. The door was unlocked too, the cart had created a barrier that was too large for Dr. Levish's lazy habits to reach over and lock it. If it was late into the evening most people would be asleep. An escape plan desperately formed inside Grace. She hadn't moved much, she could feel her fatiguing legs but also the muscles starting to twitch themselves awake. What were her chances, Grace wondered to her self. _What were her chances of making it from here to the closest exit?_

"Yes." Grace said quietly. _Freedom_.

The response was clearly not what Dr. Levish wanted to hear. A flash of danger lit up behind her eyes. Dr. Levish tried to move fast to hit a button on the bottom of her hand-held screen. But Grace moved in unison, swinging her axe and knocking the machine out of the Dr.'s hands. Levish yelped and attempted to stand but the force and surprised caused her to stumble, knocking the chair and herself to the ground.

Grace threw the bed sheets off and let her feet hit the cold tile. She put all her body weight on her legs and felt them wobble for a moment but never caved. With her useless hand tucked in to her chest and the other holding the axe, Grace moved to the door. She swayed with each step like a drunkard. It was frustrating trying to move quickly. Dr. Levish screamed and reached up from the floor to grab at Grace's cloth gown. She clenched enough gown to pull Grace back for only a moment. All Dr. Levish would remember of Grace's escape is the flash of rusted metal coming from the corner of her eye and a crack as it hit the side of her head.

Dr. Levish went limp, a lump already forming on her temple. Grace refocused and grabbed on to the door. It was unlocked. Grace huffed out an excited puff of air and pushed it open. In front of her was a second room full of computers, chairs, a few mini-fridges filled with medicine and a cabinet for paper files. Grace had always known they were watching her and it was confirmed when she saw the two-way mirror looking in to her room. Gaining her strength through anger, Grace pushed forward and lunged for the next door. It opened with just as much ease and dumped in to a long hallway. The lights were dimmed, things were quiet and no one was there to meet her. Grace took a step forward, half expecting someone to pop out at her, then another. Pretty soon she was running with the occasional stumble from weak legs. Every door she passed she tried to open in hopes that it was an exit or would at least lead to one.

Grace turned corners and climbed stairs becoming frantic. Finally a loud alarm started to sound in the hallways signaling everyone else that Grace was out of bed. She had been waiting for it. Grace expected to be noticed, she was just hoping it would be after she had gotten out of the building. The need to find an exit intensified. Grace was a prisoner and she didn't want to be caged any longer. Whatever waited for her in the outside world she would take over this hospital jail.

She opened door after door. Footsteps started to clamber behind her. "Stop!" Someone yelled. Grace looked over her shoulder and saw a small army of men chasing after her. She turned another corner, then took a left and tried to open a locked door.

"Fuck."

The men let out a warning shot of rubber bullets above her head.

There didn't seem to be an end in sight until Grace took a sharp left and finally found what she was looking for. A bright red "exit" sign hung above a door to her right. With a new burst of energy Grace charged through the door and out into the night. Her feet sunk into sand. Grace climbed into the darkness and up a steep hill. Unable to see where she was going, Grace unknowingly reached the dunes peak but kept trying to run up. She lost balance and tumbled down the other side becoming completely engulfed by the night.

2 nights, 3 days. Thats how long the rest of the Glader's had already been out in the Scorch as Grace tumbled her way down the sand dune. They were huddled under an outcrop trying to catch their breath for the night and assess the damage that had been done during the day. It had been established the first night that the Scorch was not a good place to be. The infected maniacs that the Gladers encountered in the abandoned mall nearly killed all of them. Winston had gotten bitten but while the infection was spreading, he was managing to hold on. Yesterday they had sought out shelter in a run-down city, avoiding a search plane looking for them. Thomas was on a mission to keep moving so the group walked from light up until sun down. Today was hot and hard with no shade for miles. He was taking the Glader's to the mountains where he had overheard Janson saying there might be a rebel group.

Out under the stars Thomas couldn't help but feel scared. He'd managed to get most everyone out of the WCKD facility in their great escape; Newt, Minho, Frypan, Winston, Tereasa, Zart, and their newest addition, Aris. But the guilt of everyone that he had lost along the way weighed heavily on Thomas's chest. The faces of the dead or lost Glader's haunted his mind every time he closed his eyes.

Thomas took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. "You ok?" The sweet voice of Teresa came through the night.

From his sandy bed Thomas twisted to watch as she walked towards him. The small campfire Frypan had started lit up the side of her body and face. He couldn't help but give a small smile. "Can't sleep, I guess."

"You need to though," Teresa sat down next to him. "I think you've only gotten maybe an hour of sleep over the last few nights. If something happens you'll need your energy." She brought her knees up close to her chest, the desert was colder than they anticipated once the sun went down.

"I know, but my head won't shut off. I keep thinking about things, you know? I want everyone to be safe – not out here." Thomas clasped his hands over his chest and took a deep breath. "Hopefully we get there soon or else we'll have to start worrying about food and water."

"It looks close," Teresa tried to encourage him. "Maybe another day or two?"

"I'm planning for three, just in case." The pair fel quiet, enjoying a brief moment of solitude. The rest of the Glader's snored softly behind them next to the fire seeking comfort in the familiar warmth. The night sky above them twinkled and shined down a little light on to the empty desert floor. "Are you sure you don't know where Allen was in there?" The question was innocent. It was hard for Thomas to move on from having to leave Grace at the facility.

Teresa didn't bother correcting him on the name, she knew who he was talking about. "There wasn't another girl in there with me Thomas, I swear. _I can hardly remember Allen from the Glade_ , I don't even think I could recognize him out of a group." Teresa found it easier to stick as close to the truth as possible when lying.

Thomas heaved another sigh, reluctantly crossing out Allen's name on mental list.

Next to the fire Minho laid on his side with his head uncomfortably positioned on a sand pillow. He couldn't sleep either, and judging by how much Newt was tossing and turning, neither was he. They didn't talk to eachother but they were awake for the same reasons. They had left a man behind and it was eating away at the both of them. Minho wanted to ask Thomas to turn back for Allen shortly before the first infected person lunged out at them in the mall. He wanted to bring it up again but they had come so far to turn back now. He was filled with guilt. Not noticing what Allen was before, ignoring her, and mostly being unable to fulfill his promise to Greg. While everyone in the Glade was family, each Glader had a person that they were closer to than any other and Greg was that person for Minho. The idea of letting him down, even this long after his death, devesatated him. Minho was having a hard time keeping his hopes up, but held on to the small chance that if there was a rebel army in the mountains that they would help them go back for Grace.

* * *

 **B.T.**

You could hear Newt scream throughout the entire Maze when they reset his bone. Gally nearly threw up when the bone slid back under the skin and scraped against the other half of itself. Alby and Frypan paled watching it. Minho seemed to be the only one that could handle the scene. Once the group was done holding Newt down and shoving his leg back in to place, the blonde haired boy passed out and laid sprawled out on the bed.

"Should we sew it up or something?" Alby managed to choke out, trying to keep the contents in his stomach down.

"I don't know how, do you?" Minho looked around the room.

Everyone shook their heads.

"Should I get Al'?"

Alby shook his head again after a moment. "No, Newt will be ok, it's not bleeding that much it looks like." He reached down and shook Newt by the shoulder. "Let's wrap it up though while he's still out. Clean it and klunk, good that?"

Everyone in the room nodded. There was a scent of iron hanging in the air from the fresh injury and Greg's drying blood on their clothes. It was extremely lucky that Newt would manage to keep his leg. Since the bone snapped completely in half and penetrated the skin the chances of it getting infected were high. Add in the inexperienced boys, dirty environment, and lack of antibiotics and chances sat perfectly at 99.99% chance of getting infected. It would be a long recovery, the boys cleaning Newt's leg couldn't even begin to fathom just how long, but Newt would recover.

It took another hour for them to clean and wrap Newt's leg. Gally had gone through Allen's stores of pills and liquids that he had started to hoard in the Homestead and managed to find a few painkillers. He crushed them up and put them into water, asking Frypan to help him get Newt to choke down the medicine. By the time they were done Newt was sweating but put back together. He hadn't woken up once and the remaining Glader's were thankful for it. Alby stepped back and took what felt like his first full breath since he had seen Newt standing on the edge of the Maze Wall earlier that day. "He'll be ok." Alby said more for himself than anyone else.

Gally fell against the wall and slid down to the floor completely exhausted and Frypan took a seat on the bed that Newt was laying on. Minho and Alby wanted to do the same but couldn't, if they sat down they would never get back up and they had one more issue to deal with. "You two stay here." He spoke to Gally, giving him the responsibility. "Clean yourselves up and keep an eye on Newt. Come get us if he does anything funny, we'll be out in the Glade dealing with Greg."

"What about Allen?" Gally asked, now wishing he hadn't sat on the floor and shown that he was tired.

"And Allen," Alby added. He slapped Minho on the shoulder to get going and the two left the Homestead.

The level of urgency had died out completely now that Newt had been handled. There was no rush to get to Greg. They approached the Maze entry as the doors were beginning to shut. With their eyes on the ground and the silence of the Glade being overtaken by the grinding of the Maze doors shutting, Alby and Minho didn't realize that Greg wasn't there until they nearly hit the rock wall.

It wasn't hard to put the pieces together on where Greg had gone once they looked up. There was a patch of grass that had been smoothed over from his body laying there and a decent sized puddle of blood. Evidence of the body being moved was obvious. There was a thin line of blood flecked over the grass with the occasional spots of grass still trying to right themselves after being put under weight. Silently Minho and Alby followed the trail into the trees.

Alby had so little left to give by the time they reached the end of the trail. Emotionally, mentally, and physically he was tired. He heaved a deep sigh when he and Minho reached Greg's body in the woods. It was face up, or would have been if Greg had any face left.

Behind a tree was the familiar sounds of a shovel digging as Allen worked feverishly to create a respectable hole to bury his brother in. Neither Minho or Alby could bring themselves to say anything, but couldn't let the glader continue either. He was covered in blood and dirt and would injure himself if he kept going at this pace.

Before Alby could take charge Minho stepped forward and stood at the edge of the grave that Allen had started to form. "Al'-," the name came out barely above a whisper. The boy didn't slow. "Allen," Minho said again hoping this time it would get his attention.

It was like waking up from a dream. Minho's voice was the soft alarm calling her back to reality. Her arms hurt and her chest hurt and she couldn't feel her fingers. She stopped, wide eyed and trying to catch her breath. The grave was more than deep enough, far deeper than the one they had dug for George. Allen turned in the hole and realized that in the few short hours since her friends had left her she had managed to create a hip deep grave. Allen tried to recall how she got here and obscure flashes terror flashed out of her memory. She could remember watching Greg fall and seeing his body splattered on the ground but the rest of her memory woud come back later in the form of nightmares. Allen looked up at Minho expectantly, hoping he would know how she got here.

Allen's hair was still short and untangled, allowing his face to be seen completely. Large desperate eyes looked up at Minho and it broke his heart. He jumped down into Greg's grave and grabbed hold of Allen, clutching him in a tight hug. It took a moment to register but Allen dropped the shovel and returned the embrace. Together the two boys began to cry over a shared loss.

Allen and Minho cried with eachother until no tears were physically left and even then continued to hold onto eachother as comfort. When they finally parted, instead of continuing on with the burial, they sat side by side in the dirt with their backs up again sthe side of the hole and slept. Alby had sat at the bottom of a tree and fallen asleep while giving his friends a moment to grieve. In the Homestead both the newbie and Gally were sprawled out on the floor sleeping while Newt floated in and out of consciousness. The Glade was quiet again.

Hours would pass and night would come before anyone touched Greg's body.

Allen woke first in the darkness, Minho's body heat keeping the chills away. Every bone ached and her body urged her to stand and stretch. As she was trying to gather herself Allen realized that Minho was holding her hand, their fingers tightly woven together. She didn't want to move anymore, she just wanted to cry again and have Minho hold her.

Allen's small movements were enough to shake Minho out of his light sleep though. When he realized they were holding hands he quickly let Allen's go. Minho stood to shake off the sleep and slowly crawled out of the grave, unsure of where he would go or do but knowing that he couldn't stay so close to death any longer.

In the darkness Allen choked down tears and desperate gulps of air that would signal she still needed him, or Greg, or _anyone._ She brought her knees up to her chest and buried her face in her hands. Allen began to cry again but not for Greg, this time she was crying for herself and the inevitable truth that she would be alone for a very long time.

* * *

 **Happy Thursday!  
**

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter, let me know what you think :)**

 **Alison**


	4. Chapter 4

Her teeth were clenched so tight that Grace's jaw was beginning to ache. It was cold and she was hardly wearing any clothing. After tumbling down the side of the hill Grace had ran a little further into the night but slowed after the alarms and barking dogs faded behind her. Now she was left stumbling through the night with her arms crossed over her chest, tightly holding on to the axe as her only defense and chance at survival.

"I hate this." Grace said completely regretting her decision to run. The stars and moon shed just enough light to let the landscape shine. The tan sand was difficult to walk through but the dark purples, blues and blacks of the distant shapes was breathtaking. Grace stopped and shivered, looking to her right and left. In one direction is looked like there was a collapsed structure, the other was an outcrop of buildings, in front were mountains. There was only a slight debate on what to do. Reason encouraged Grace to go to the nearest shelter; the collapsed building to the right. Logic argued that the buildings might offer more supplies. But stopping for the night and freezing to death was not an option. "I hate this so much," she muttered again.

Tightening her arms and hunching her shoulders up against the chilly night air, Grace set course for the buildings. Focusing only on putting one foot in front of the other.

By mid-morning she had made great time and approached the first destroyed building. Having been confined to a bed for who knows how long made Grace's night hike easy, quick, and honestly refreshing. The sun had warmed her skin. Her muscles were awake. Her mind felt clear after a full night of not being pumped full of drugs. As Grace walked through the middle of the abandoned city trying to decide which building to enter she couldn't help but feel confident and like the universe had finally given her a break.

She stepped lightly through the ground floors of several buildings during the afternoon. Alone, naked, and with only one good hand Grace knew she couldn't risk being spotted or heard by the wrong people so it was best if she wasn't seen or heard by anyone. The buildings she walked through had miscellaneous things scattered around. It was mostly trash but treasures were hidden if you knew where to look. In the first building Grace found a flashlight with working batteries and two cans of tuna. The findings prompted the need for a bag or backpack which was dug up in the third building where Grace also found a pair of boots that fit nicely. As she made her way from building to building under the afternoon sun she looked less naked and more like a scavenger. By the end of it Grace had managed to find a decent amount of survival gear; boots, flashlight, a few cans of food, cargo pants, a utility belt where she could tuck the axe, a backpack, a pair of large welding goggles to help shield her eyes from the sun, two scarves and a tank top. Everything was covered in dust but worked perfectly. With her new tools stuffed into the backpack, even the medical gown, Grace set out from the post-apocalyptic city.

With nothing in front of her besides the sun and distant mountains, Grace passed time by playing with her dead hand. Dr. Levish would pinch the finger tips and work her way down towards the wrist until Grace started to feel something. Except in a few specific spots, feeling wouldn't come back until Dr. Levish would start pinching Grace's wrist. The pinky finger and ring finger were nothing more than scarred skin tightly covering bone, curled towards the palm. She could move her pointer just the slightest bit but her thumb sat apart from the rest like a flesh nub. With her good hand Grace traced the caverns of scars and chunks of missing skin in her palm as they wrapped around and faded into healthy skin.

"They burned you for lying," Janson had told her. "You were there to observe them and nothing more but when they found out who you are they nearly killed you. Only skin and bone when we finally managed to reach you." He showed her pictures of what Grace looked like when they found her. A walking corpse. The photos made her cringe but so did the mirror. She didn't recognize either of the people, past or present.

She had been injured and beaten, there was no way to avoid that as the truth. Someone, or a group of someone's, wanted her in pain. " _Take care of yourself for godsake."_ Grace shook her head as the voice rang from out of the void. A shiver went down her spine, " _I can't be here every minute to make sure you're eating and drinking."_ Her eyes clenched shut

With her good hand Grace hit her head a few times trying to shake the internal ghosts haunting her memory.

There was no shelter near, and with the city so far behind, Grace figured where she stood was a good place to stop. It was getting dark out which meant the cold was creeping back in. Grace wanted to start a fire but didn't want to draw attention to herself. She used the medical gown as a blanket and tried her hardest not to shiver. As Grace laid on the ground facing the mountains she couldn't help but feel like she was seeing a small speck of glowing light off in the distance. Grace wondered what it could be as she fell asleep; a window lit up by a candle, a small campfire, maybe a lantern.

Winston went to sleep at nearly the same time that Grace did. As much as the Gladers wanted to disregard the spreading infection raging across Winston's body, it was becoming difficult to ignore the signs of death. His breathing was labored and little bits of white foam clung to Winston's mouth. No one had complained when they began to drag him half way through the day to keep him with the group.

For whatever reason today felt hotter and harder than the previous days out in the Scorch. The boys were wearing thin and even Thomas was showing signs of hesitation when making decisions now. They had walked slow, too slowly it seems because it felt like they hadn't made any progress. Still stuck somewhere in the desert the Glader's felt hopeless and without direction. If they hadn't known any better they would have sworn that the mountains were moving away from them.

Thomas's sunken eyes and withering confidence scanned the group in front of him. He knew Winston's fate but refused to be the one that said anything about it. "How much water do we have left?" He had been swallowing his own spit for hours as a way to wet his throat.

"Not much," Newt responded with beginning stages of defeat. "I'm out, Winston's bottle is out – we used it to clean the bite -," He looked around the group, "who has water left?"

Teresa raised her hand as she shook her bottle to hear the water slushing around. Frypan and Zart both raised their hands as well. Minho opened his and peered into it with one eye closed to get the best view then shook his head. Last in line, Aris emptied his backpack and a few full bottles of water tumbled out. "I've been holding on to them, just in case." He shrugged, trying to be humble about his wise decisions.

A little bit of tension released itself from the group. They weren't as bad off as they thought. Thomas gave a grateful sigh and fell to the ground, crossing his legs and rubbing the back of his neck. They had walked most of the day with too many breaks, too little of shade, and not enough distance covered. Thomas looked over his shoulder at the direction in which they came and could have sworn he saw where they had started that morning.

"Another day, you think? Day and a half?" Teresa tried to pull him out of his thoughts again.

Thomas bit his lip, "If we move quickly tomorrow, maybe we can get to the mountain by nightfall and make camp or hopefully see traces of people." The Gladers nodded in agreement. Thomas was there best bet at surviving and they would follow him to the ends of the earth.

Winston began to choke on a clump of his own spit. Zart rolled him over on his side and gave him a firm smack on the back to help dislodge the mucus. It wasn't the first time it had happened today. Black lines had started to overrun Winston's torso and neck, breaking out across his collar bones and arms. He breathed and occasionally muttered incoherent things but that was it.

That night the Glader's fell into an uneasy sleep. Frypan had started a fire with a few pieces of desert brush that he could find but the flame kept dying in the night. The Glader's would shiver and curl into a tighter ball until one of them sacrificed their comfort to get up and rekindle the flame. By early morning they were more tired than the night before. Swells of frustration ebbed and flowed through the group as the sun creeped around the curvature of the earth.

Minho got up, punching the sand on his way, and stormed off from the group. He felt helpless. In the Glade he had always yearned for larger spaces to run through instead of the confines of the same Maze. But here in the desert, where he could run for miles in every direction, he was beginning to feel nothing but despair.

"You alright, Minho?" Newt had followed him, not wanting to watch Winston slowly die any longer.

He gave Newt a brief acknowledgement, "Fine, just didn't sleep at all."

"Same. Or the night before."

Minho nodded in agreement.

"It's colder out here than I thought it'd be," Newt mumbled, kicking sand with his shoes. "I'd kill to know how Allen kept those fires going all night."

"Spent half the day choppin' wood, didn't he?"

"…she."

Both boys fell silent.

There was a knot tied in Minho's chest whenever he thought about Allen. He missed seeing that slint-head around and was worried about where Al' was and what was being done to _her._

Behind them a scuffle broke out and both Minho and Newt had their attention refocused. Winston still laid on the ground but had a rabid look in his eyes, as the two got closer they heard him pleading with Thomas. "Please Thomas," Winston croaked holding out his hand for something, "I'm just holdin' you back and I don't wanna turn into one of those things."

It took a second for Newt to register what was happening and once it clicked he said, "No! We'll figure something out, maybe someone in the mountains-,"

" _If_ there's someone in the mountains," Teresa said darkly.

Thomas ignored their comments and focused on Winston. Clenched in his hand was a small firearm that he had managed to keep during their escape from WCKD. Winston had tried to grab it from him while he was chatting with Teresa but missed. "We'll find a way, Winston-," Thomas tried to convince himself.

Winston was ready though. "No, please Thomas. Just leave me here." He was in pain. He was tired. He was able to see the reality of death that the others could not. Winston raised his hand an inch higher.

There was a long moment before Thomas loosened his grip on handgun and gave it to Winston. He wanted to say something, ' _I'm sorry,' 'you were a good friend,' 'we'll remember you,'_ but nothing fit. Instead Thomas knelt down and pressed his forehead against Winston's. They lingered, acknowledging one another one last time and then Thomas parted, leaving the rest of his friends to say goodbye to Winston. They shook hands, muttered goodbyes, hugged, and tears were shed but in the end the Glader's turned their backs on Winston and began their journey again for the Mountains.

It took Winston nearly half an hour to pull the trigger and end his life on his own terms. When the shot rang out all of the Glader's came to a complete stop; even Grace.

* * *

 **B.T.**

Gally felt like it was only natural to try and fill the hole left behind by Greg. All of his efforts went unnoticed or underappreciated though. He began to run more, picking up both Minho and Greg's absence since Minho was unable to move from the Homestead. He had taken the opportunity to advise Alby whenever it was appropriate or he felt like Greg would have stepped in. Gally checked in on Allen three times a day. Allen would move between a few locations, Greg's grave or right in the middle of any opening to the Maze, but Gally always found her and tried to get her to eat or drink.

Allen would cry a lot and he always tried to console her, but it hardly ever worked. He would bring her gifts, like hand carved wooden animals or little flowers he found growing from vines in the Maze. Gally even recruited Frypan on a couple of occasions to try and bake Allen something. They had made a cake that had the texture of a brownie, and a few cookies that hurt your teeth when you chewed but Allen seemed to like sweet things the best.

It was later in the afternoon when Gally was trying to find Allen. He didn't have anything for her this time, but hoped that his visit would give her some comfort. Gally spotted her her sitting on the far side of the Glade in the mouth of one of the doors. As he walked over he wondered how long it had been since Greg died. It felt like months, years even, but as Gally did the math in his head he realized that it had only been 8 days. Feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, he sighed and took a seat next to Allen.

"Maze is quiet today, didn't even see a Beetle Blade." Gally started in on his ramblings. "Alby was out there and thought he figured somethin' out around Section Two. Asked me to run with him for a few hours. Think he's finally acceptin' me as a runner." Allen hadn't spoken at all since the accident and asking questions or trying to engage was hopeless. "That new Greenie is great. I like him a lot. Only ever has nice things to say and cooks way better than anyone here ever has. Still doesn't remember his name but we've taken to calling him Frypan, partly for the way he cooks but also because of – well, _you know._ " Gally said referring to the Greenie hitting Allen over the head with a frying pan when he had freaked out. "And by 'we' I mean myself, Alby, and Newt."

Gally waited a minute to see if Allen would react. The Glader was getting better about hearing Newt's name, but he could tell she still didn't like it. The first few times Gally had mentioned Newt he had gotten socked in the face or kicked in the shins. Now Allen just clenched her fists and mentally set Newt on fire. It wasn't hard to understand that Allen blamed what happened to Greg on Newt. Even Minho was struggling with not doing the same. But Allen couldn't be reasoned with right now so Gally didn't try and persuade her opinions. "Minho's still in the Homestead. He came out this morning to use the pot and I think he ate something for the first time in days, which is good. Alby was getting pretty worried about him, you know. I mean, he's worried about both of you but at least you eat." Gally bit his lip, it was getting harder to think of new things to say every day. "You sleep at all, Allen? I've seen you walking around the edge of the Glade most nights."

Allen didn't respond but the answer was no, she hadn't slept at all. He wouldn't let her. There was a voice inside her head that kept degrading her every minute of every hour, critiquing her choices and movements. Hyper-focusing on survival and what Greg would have done. The voice in her head was new, but at the same time it wasn't. Like a leak in a faucet that you've always noticed but never acknowledged until your bathroom was flooded, the voice now flooding her mind. She found it easier to just do what it said if she wanted any peace. So far it kept her moving and far away from anyone else

"It's not healthy to not sleep, Al'. You'll go mad." Gally looked her over. All things considered Gally was really happy Allen hadn't tried to do anything drastic like actually kill Newt or run off into the Maze. Instead she stared blankly ahead focused on a ghost that wasn't there. Greg's blood was still smudged onto Allen's skin and clothes. The dent on her forehead from where Frypan had swung was a deep plum purple with yellow on the sides. Physically Allen looked a little distraught but alive. It was enough for Gally right now.

He hoisted himself up and dusted off his pants. "I'm goin' to get some dinner Al', wanna come with me?"

No response.

"Alright, well I'll bring you some later then. You'll be in the woods or out here?"

Not even a movement.

"I'll just look for you here first I guess."

 ** _We'll be in the trees,_** Allen's voice snapped internally. It made her wince.

Gally left and retreated back to the Homestead. He didn't want to leave his friend alone but he also had new responsibilities that needed his attention now. A rat had chewed through Frypan's pantry and it needed to be covered, Newt's leg needed a new bandage, and Alby most likely needed someone to run ideas by.

In the kitchens Gally banged a piece of plywood onto the side of the pantry with a few nails while Frypan finished roasting the chicken. "That should hold it," he said throwing down the hammer.

"Thanks, man, it's appreciated. Knowin' that a new person gets sent up every few weeks makes me nervous about food supplies. Don't want a rat eatin' up someone else's share." Frypan poked the chicken with a long knife to confirm it was done that plopped it on a large serving dish.

"You kill this yourself?" Gally heard his stomach gurgle in hunger. The chicken smelled phenomenal.

Frypan shrugged and cut in to it, "no one else was gonna do it and we gotta eat so here it is."

"Al' always hated killing the animals. Wished someone would come up from the box and do it for us." He scratched his nose and picked up a plate for Frypan to fill. "Save some for him, would ya?"

The Greenie nodded, "Minho came in today when you and Alby were out runnin'."

Gally gave a huge sigh of relief. "He eat somethin'?" Frypan nodded again. "Alby will be happy to hear that."

"Seemed to be more aware than what he has been, think he's snapping out of it." Frypan went over to the grill and turned a few pieces of sweet corn over. "Came in askin' what everyone was doing and where Alby was. Think he had been talkin' to Newt because he asked for a two plates and went back to the Homestead with them."

"He say anything else?"

"Was only here long enough to make a sandwich," Frypan shook his head.

Gally collected his plate filled with food and gave thanks. "I'll send Alby over to grab some food when I see him, but you should come to the Homestead tonight. We're gonna have a meeting. I think Alby is frustrated with how things are right now. He'll need all the sane people there, even if you are just a klunking Newbie." He gave a small laugh to show that he meant no offense by the name and left the kitchens.

As he walked to the Homestead and ate his dinner he realized that Frypan was right, new people would be coming into the Glade on a regular basis with no end in sight. They would need beds and rooms and places to sit. More things would need to be built soon and supplies couldn't be wasted. He climbed the staircase to Newt thinking about how best to house everyone in the future and how many nails he had left to use.

With a firm nudge of Gally's elbow, Newt's room door swung open. Gally had individually called a truth with Newt after the accident. He had had a rough first month in the Glade and it wasn't really nice to be mean to him just because Allen was trying to be Newt's friend too. It was jealously that caused Gally to dislike Newt, he knew it. But seeing how angry Allen was at Newt the threat didn't seem to exist anymore. It was the only silver lining in the whole situation.

"How ya' doin, shuck face?"

Newt rolled his eyes. "Fine. Bored. But fine." He scooched up on his bed, bending his one good leg and leaving the other straight out. They had nothing to caste it with besides wood and bandages so Newt wasn't allowed to leave the bed until it healed more. "What's Frypan making for dinner?"

"Chicken," Gally said with a mouthful, "he'll bring you some in a bit." He put his plate down and grabbed a set of clean bandages for Newt. "He said Minho came out today though, did you see him?"

"Yeah, he brought me lunch and sat with me for a bit. Didn't say much. Asked how I was feelin' 'n stuff. Said he felt bad for how my leg but I told him not to worry about it. Didn't have any interest going back into that Maze anyways." Newt's spirits had changed completely since he tried to jump from the wall. He had told Alby that it was a mistake and he regretted it. It was almost like he was swearing oath to remain in the Glade until the end of time. Alby appreciated it, but was just happy he didn't have to worry about him doing anything dumb again.

He talked a lot more too, almost as much as Gally did. "I'm glad he's coming out, maybe I'll see him tonight too." he took off the old bandages and looked at Newt's leg. The break and wound were still new, but at least it didn't look infected or like any internal bleeding was going on. He cleaned it, rubbed on fresh antibiotics and put on fresh bandages.

"He was wondering how Allen was," Newt talked as Gally worked, "and I realized that I didn't know either. Do you?"

"He seems ok. Hasn't said a word but that's not uncommon either."

Newt tried not to wince every time Gally touched his leg. "You think you could ask Al' to come up here? I feel like I need to say somethin' to him. Or maybe you could help me get to him?"

Gally stopped and looked up at Newt very seriously. "That's a terrible idea."

* * *

 **Sorry for taking so long. I kept rewriting this chapter to make it more interesting but when it boils down to it, I really just needed a filler chapter to explain events/give a realistic time frame for things unfolding. I've already finished the next chapter and just have to edit it, so expect it soon! It's much more interesting than this one - I promise!**

 **Let me know what you think,**

 **\- Alison**


	5. Chapter 5

Echoes from the gun shot ricocheted off the desert floor. Grace panicked at the sound and remained frozen in a crunched down position for several seconds. It was early morning and she was far too tired to try and fight off people with guns. Grace waited for another shot to follow but nothing came. Slowly she straightened herself and began to walk again, throwing glances over her shoulder and keeping a vigilant eye out for anyone approaching her.

The sun had only been up for an hour but the skin on her lips was beginning to crack from exposure. If it hadn't been for the welding goggles that Grace had found the amount of light bouncing off the sand and into her face, along with the light coming from above, would be too much. She looked ridiculous with the goggles on, like a bug with no wings, but Grace didn't care in the slightest. She could see where she was going and her eyes didn't hurt from the sun at all.

Grace moved quickly on purpose. It made her paranoid to be out in the open like she currently was. There was absolutely nothing that could be used as protection if something happened. It wasn't safe and the surprise gunshot meant she wasn't out here alone, which didn't help Grace's stress.

She had been moving for a few hours. The sun hung perfectly above and a straight line of footprints from where she had walked were left behind. Grace's fingers on her good hand ached from being wrapped so tightly around the axe and her skin begged for shade. It was time for a break. Grace had noticed some sort of outcrop earlier that day and had been walking towards it for the better part of an hour. As she approached it appeared to be the wing of a broken plane, or maybe the airplane was still there but buried under sand. It stuck out at a slant and gave the most perfect piece of shade in the afternoon sun.

She was coming from the side and could tell that something, or someone, had dug into the earth underneath the wing and had made a sand nest. Grace slowed and became more cautious. The cool dark sheltered patch of desert looked too comforting to pass up though, so she continued. Maybe the animal was out. Maybe the person had moved on.

To her dismay though, Grace noticed a lump of something laying on the ground. It wasn't sand. It was darker than the surrounding shaded objects, solid, but unmoving. Grace inched forward, crouching own and squinting through her goggles to get a better look. She unhooked her axe and held it ready to swing.

Right on the border between bright sand and shaded, Grace ducked her head in and surveyed the scene. There had been a small fire pit in the center where the ground had been left scorched with little rays of black. The sand had been messed up and moved around underneath the broken wing. On the far side laid a person. She froze. He looked sick. Beyond sick. Infected. Plagued. _Dead._ Pieces of the boys jaw splattered against the angled airplane wing.

Grace's breathing had hitched and she couldn't decide what to do. The gun that she had heard earlier this morning sat in his open palm. One mystery solved.

She wanted to leave and let the poor soul rest in peace but another side of her, the one out to survive in this wasteland, had different ideas. Grace needed that gun. It would be so much more effective than an axe. With tense movements Grace approached the dead body. Something told her that it wasn't the first one she'd seen.

His fingers were still wrapped around the handle. She bent down and tried to pick them off but as she did the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Grace stopped. Her good hand wrapped around the barrel of the gun, her bad one trying to loosen the boys grip. Slowly she raised her eyes to look up at the dead body and screamed when Grace saw it was looking back at her. "AGH!" She yelped, stumbling away and falling on her back.

The body became rabid and lunged after her. Grace crawled backwards as best she could while trying to stand, kicking hot sand up along the way. Out in the sun the boy looked manic. He was filthy and horrific black veins unraveled all over his exposed skin. He tried to make noises but only gurgling blood came out from where he had tried to shoot himself. His arm swung out towards her, "WINSTON STOP!" Grace screamed without thinking as she finally managed to stand and begin running.

He followed, snapping and reaching to get a hold of Grace. A few cold fingers brushed the back of her arm and Grace screamed again. She swung her axe blindly behind her and managed to land a hit with a damp, wet thud. The boy screamed out in anguish and Grace pulled the axe back. She had hit his upper thigh. Running at top speed, her axe now covered is black and red goop, Grace didn't look back. The boy tried to keep up with her but his broken body wouldn't allow it. He slowed, let out an inhuman screech and abandoned the chase.

It all happened in a matter of seconds.

Grace continued to run and ignored her body's fatigue. She would glance over her shoulder in a panic half expecting him to still be there. She ran and ran and continued to run after stopping for a brief moment to vomit from the scare. Before long the outcrop of shade couldn't even be seen anymore and the mountains seemed to approach at a rapid speed. Grace stumbled at the sight of the mountains and fell to the ground on all fours. Her chest heaved great big gulps of air. The pounding in her chest could be heard in Grace's ears. Sweat dripped off of every inch even though her body had no water to spare. Grace fell back on her knees and then to her butt. She needed rest and she needed it now.

Pulling out the medical gown that she had escaped in, Grace draped it over her whole body in an attempt to protect herself from the sun. Underneath the gown it was hot but at least the cloth provided some shade. Grace had come further than she realized and wasn't as alone as she thought.

In any humans panic to escape a dangerous situation they often choose the easiest path. In a desert, where there are a million paths to choose from, the easiest and safest path would be that of civilization. People to help you protect yourself from the terrors that might be trying to hurt you. Grace hadn't fully acknowledged that she was doing just that, but it showed in her decision making. When running away from the infected boy she had started to follow foot prints left in the sand. Subconsciously hoping that the person who had created them would be able to help her.

Just out of site over a crop of sand dunes were the people she had been following. They were also resting but getting ready to leave in a moment. It had been a hot day and a rough start having to leave Winston behind. Thomas stood up from the hot sand and squinted ahead. They were nearly there. The sun beginning its journey down allowed the mountain's shadow to start extending out. "We'll make it there sometime tonight." He said with more life than he had had in the last few days.

Thomas smacked his jeans a few times, dislodging sand that irritated his skin, and extended an arm down to help Teresa up. She was sunburnt and exhausted but kept up with the boy's just fine. Teresa's lips were chapped and bleeding but like everyone else she didn't complain. _You had to be a certain breed of female to last this long,_ Teresa had always told herself, _where others fail I will succeed_. She was just as happy to see the mountains growing closer as Thomas was. "Great." Teresa said, "I hope we find someone soon, Thomas. I would kill for hot food." She smiled sweetly at him, sharing the new found energy. He smiled back.

Aris turned away from the two lovebirds and pretended to gag. Minho saw and laughed. "You don't even know the half of it, shank." He said pushing himself off the ground. "Thomas wouldn't leave her alone when she first showed up in the Glade. ' _Teresa this,' 'Teresa that,' 'Where's Teresa?_ '" Minho gave a poor imitation of Thomas's voice and chuckled.

Thomas and Teresa blushed but the change in attitude for the Glader's was hard to ignore. They were in good spirits. The end was in site and hopefully a safe haven wasn't far behind.

"I hope they had food there," Frypan piped up after a few minutes of walking. "I'm starvin' and would love nothing more than a fresh cooked meal."

Everyone groaned as their mouths started to water. "I would literally fight a Griever one-on-one for some of your pie right now," Newt followed.

"You wouldn't stand a shucking chance," Zart nudged Newt with his elbow. "That pie would be all mine."

Newt scoffed sarcastically. "Oh yeah, who says I couldn't take a Griever on my own?"

"That leg of yours says so!" Minho came out of nowhere and swiped Newt's bad leg out from under him. He fell to the ground and swore at his friends.

As the sun sank lower into the sky it became easier to walk. The cool air shifted in and the Glader's soon found themselves in the last ten or twenty miles before hitting the mountains. It would be a long walk, but they were confident with each step. Small talk could be heard amongst the group as darkness approached. They swapped stories to share with Aris and Aris shared his own. There was a low rumble from behind them and dark purple clouds blossomed in the distance. It hardly phased the group.

An hour passed and while their bodies tired their attitudes did not. The sun had completely disappeared behind the mountains which made them seem closer than ever. There was only one thing that was making them anxious now and it was the growing storm behind them.

Newt glanced over his shoulder, "think we'll make it?"

"Yeah, let's just keep moving." Minho slapped him on the shoulder. "What's a little rain? You need a shower anyways."

The group laughed and agreed that they were all in desperate need of a shower. The storm didn't seem so worrisome after Minho phrased it that way and the group maintained their pace.

10 miles behind them though the storm looked a little more dangerous. Grace had woken up from her nap feeling groggy and beaten down by the sun. The thunder rumbling from the clouds warned her to get moving. As the clouds grew bigger she picked up pace. The hair on her arm had lifted from the electricity in the air and she began to jog. It was dark out and nothing could be seen by the peaks of the mountains in front of her against the dark blue star filled sky. She jogged hoping that tonight would be the night she found shelter.

Thomas was exhilarated when several lights began to flicker at the base of the mountain in front of them. A small city, perhaps, a colony, _the rebel group._ His heart leapt in his chest. "There!" He shouted only to be greeted with a deafening roar of thunder.

The group turned together and saw that the storm had snuck up on them in the darkness. Strikes of lightning were hitting the ground only a few miles behind them in great clumps, sending sparks flying from the ground. There was only a moment of pause. "RUN!" Thomas yelled to his group then started sprinting in the direction of the lights.

It was too late. The storm had completely overcome them and big strikes of lightning were hitting the desert floor all around. As they sprinted forward each Glader tried to dodge electricity without falling to the ground. Zart had managed to move to the left at just the right time and was only knocked to the ground by the force of lightning hitting the earth. He quickly found his footing and began sprinting again. Blinding flashes of light lit up the entire desert for seconds at a time followed by deafening rolls of thunder. They all ran as quickly as possible. The abandoned facility getting closer with each step.

It looked like an old factory. The large walls were covered in tiny windows that were mostly shattered. Pale orange and yellow lights shined through the good ones indicating that not just one person but a group of persons was hiding safely from the storm inside. Thomas pushed his group forward, breaking through the fence line first. They were nearly there. Just a hundred more feet.

There was a cry of pain and a large bang like someone hitting a tin trash can with a large staff. Thomas turned around to see Newt and Zart trying lift a body from the ground. "Keep going!" He commanded the others, pushing Teresa forward toward the building. She led the remaining group of boys inside; Frypan and Aris hot on her heels. It was Minho that had been pushed down by lightning at the last minute. Not directly hit, Minho had just been knocked out by the blast. His body was limp in the hands of Newt and Zart but they had managed to get him up and were dragging him with the storm raging around them.

In the last thirty feet before the four Gladers reached the door, there was another flash of lightning lasting just long enough for both Thomas and Zart to see a figure dash by them. The world turned pitch black the next second and the figure disappeared without anyone seeing where it had gone. "Did you see that!?" Zart yelled over the storm, worried that it was another one of those _things_ like they had seen in the abandoned mall.

They pushed into the room where Teresa, Frypan and Aris were waiting. There was a loud crash as Newt slammed the door and shut out the storm. "Someone's here. They shoved past me to get in." Teresa said urgently to Thomas.

Zart and Newt propped Minho up along the wall and the whole group went on high alert. If it was just one Crank they could handle it. A few of them had knives. Teresa gripped one and took stance next to Thomas as they faced the empty black building. They couldn't see anything. "Are you sure you saw somethin'?" Newt whispered, ready to fight right behind Thomas. Minho groaned from the shock but no one paid him attention right now. Thomas nodded to Newt without turning around.

"Who's there!?" Thomas yelled out into the darkness. Sensing panic, Minho shook off the pain and tried to stand and face the enemy with the group.

There was what sounded like a rattle of chains from the left. The whole group shifted to face the noise. There was a second more definite sound of chains rattling, this time followed by a yelp of surprise.

From out of the night tumbled a person, their back to the group of Gladers. Nearly falling on top of her was a Crank so far gone that one of its legs had fallen off from rot. The person swung wildly with her weapon, knocking the creature to the ground where a heavy duty chain could be seen around its neck. It laid unmoving. Still with her back to the group of Gladers, the new person's shoulders raised and fell with quick breaths.

"Hey!-," Thomas called.

She swung around in a mad panic. Axe high in the air ready to lodge it right in the middle of Thomas's neck. He hardly had anytime to register the danger when a hand came out from behind him and grabbed the wooden handle, stopping the axe mid swing.

Minho stood next to Thomas completely calm, "Al'?"

* * *

 **B.T.**

The Glade was quiet. It was early morning and Alby had just woken up. He had one purpose today and it was to get Allen to look at Newt's leg. He had healed, from what Alby could tell, but getting him to walk on it was a different story. Newt couldn't put any weight on his bad leg and Alby needed him back out in the Glade helping. Alby heaved a deep sigh. This was the last real issue he had to face that was caused by _The Accident,_ as they officially called it now. The hardest part of the task was going to be getting Allen to agree to it.

Alby rolled out of his bed and put his feet on the floor. This needed to happen before tomorrow when the newest Greenie would arrive. He had been dreading it and pushed it off for as long as possible. Gally had been working on Allen, trying to convince him to help Newt on his own accords but it wasn't working very well. Alby would get status reports at the end of every day from Gally about what Allen was doing. It helped a lot because Alby had so much to do it made it impossible to keep track of the distraught twin. Gally would tell him how Allen was dealing with things today and whether it was a good idea to ask for him to help Newt or not; _it was never a good idea_. He told Alby about what Allen was doing and if bringing up Newt's name warranted a punch to the face or not.

As great of a leader as Alby was, he didn't have the faintest idea of how to help Allen. He had more important things to do; like figure out how to get them out of this shucking place. A large part of him was thankful that Gally was there to take care of Allen.

He walked to Gally's cot and shook him by the shoulder. "Get up shank, we need to do this."

Gally had also been dreading this day. He, like all the other Glader's, didn't have any idea how to medically help Newt any further. Allen needed to look at him. They needed to know if they had messed his leg up more or if he'd be alright. There was no way around it.

"I'm comin', I'm comin." Gally muttered.

Together the pair walked out into the Glade and straight for the trees. They were confident that since the Maze doors weren't open yet, Allen wouldn't be sitting in front of them which meant he was somewhere by the graves.

To Alby's surprise, not so much for Gally, Allen was awake and alert when they found him. He stood half hidden behind several large piles of chopped wood. "He uh-," Gally scratched his head, "likes to keep himself occupied." He had really underplayed how Allen was spending his time when reporting to Alby.

Alby's mouth had dropped just slightly. "How the klunk-?" was all he really managed to say.

"Allen!" Gally called nicely.

He stopped and looked up at who was in his area. A bitter taste hit his mouth when we saw both of them standing there. Allen nodded in acknowledgement then pulled up a large chunk of tree that still had leaves on it and began to break it down with his trusty axe.

Gally nudged Alby in the arm and motioned for him to follow. There were stock piles of wood scattered all around the Deadheads. It worried Gally how much Allen pushed himself but it seemed to help a little and so Gally never brought it up. "Alby and I wanted to come out and see you. You eaten yet? I think Frypan is making bacon with breakfast today. You should come."

Allen stopped just long enough to shake his head.

"I would really like it if you came with us, Al'. Haven't seen you in ages." Alby picked up a piece of wood, still amazed with the amount that had been cut, and then dropped it.

Again, Allen denied their offer.

"Come on, Al'." Alby tried to give a supportive smile. "Just for a little bit."

This time Allen didn't even stop, he just kept moving, ignoring them altogether now.

"Has he said anything since The Accident?" Alby muttered to Gally.

"No," he said with a bit of shame. In attempts to protect Allen and also give Alby good news, Gally had been fabricating the truth a little bit.

Alby huffed. This would be harder than he thought. "You do all this Al'?" He asked loudly over the _'thunk, thunk, thunk,_ ' of Allen's axe. "It's really impressive. Can we use some of it to get a fire going? We haven't had one burning in a few weeks now and with the new Greenie coming up tomorrow it'd be nice to have it back."

Allen stopped and looked over his hoard. He originally had planned on building himself a small cabin out here, but quickly remembered that he was garbage at building things. The voice in his head was too stubborn to allow them to ask for help from Gally, so instead they just kept chopping down trees as a distraction. While the wood truly served no purpose to Allen, he was reluctant with agreeing. Finally nodding his head after a tense minute.

"Great. I'll have Minho come out and get some later today. He's always asking Gally about how you are, did you know that?" Alby took a step closer, unsure of how to actually approach Allen anymore. He looked slightly crazed. With his dirty clothes and sweat stained skin. Alby realized that Allen appeared less like the boy he had known and more like a stranger that lived in the woods.

Allen shuffled the axe around and one hand and untrustingly flicked his eyes between Gally and Alby. **_They want something,_** he growled.

Gally picked up on it and jumped in. "We need a favor from you, Al', and we haven't asked for nothin' recently so we're really hopin' you'll do it."

His face dropped into irritation.

"We need you to come and look at Newt for us." Gally admitted.

Allen wanted to laugh at them! How dare they. Newt _killed_ his brother. If _Newt_ hadn't been up on that shucking wall then Greg would still be alive. _Newt_ wasn't going to get anything from him. Allen went back to chopping wood, completely done with the conversation.

Alby took another step toward the Glader. "His leg is all healed up, Al', but he can't stand on it. We don't know why. That's all we need to know."

"He's not bleeding or anything. You don't even have to touch him." Gally tried to assist.

Allen kept working.

"I don't think it'll work, Alby."

But Alby wasn't taking 'no' for any answer. He had a place to run. People to look after. Things to do. Allen would do this whether he wanted to or not. "Listen here, shank." Alby said taking three more steps closer to Allen and closing the gap. Gally tensed a little, he hadn't even been that close to Al' in a while. "You've been eatin' the food and drinking the water. You use the tools here and we've been nothin' but nice to you. I know it's hard and I know you don't like him, but you're gonna go look at Newt and tell us what's wrong. Good that?"

Allen was small compared to everyone else in the Glade. But during Alby's speech he had raised himself to full height, puffing out his chest a little and firmly gripped his weapon. Even though Alby didn't show it, Allen had made him a little uneasy. It was a pissing contest. But while Allen was emotionally tormented by rage and depression, he wasn't stupid enough to fight the Glade's leader.

Without looking Allen bent his arm and threw the axe, wedging the blade perfectly into the tree parallel to them. A clump formed in Alby's throat and he had trouble swallowing it. Gally flinched from the precision and force of the throw. Allen stared down Alby for a second before knocking past him and out into the Glade.

Newt was asleep and unsuspecting of the terror that was going to break through his bedroom door. He had wanted to see Allen since he woke up, to apologize and hash things out, but everyone told him it was a bad idea; even Frypan.

So it surprised Newt very much when there was a loud crash that startled him awake. Allen had kicked in his door and stood seething in the frame. He shuffled up in his bed, unsure if this was reality or the start to a bad nightmare. "What-?" But Alby and Gally appeared behind him with pale apologetic expressions.

Allen pointed his finger at Newt and then threw it to the side, motioning for Newt to get out of bed.

In nothing but a pair of underwear, Newt got out of bed and stood balancing on one leg while the other was bent just slightly. "What's going on?"

"Just do what he says," Alby had wiggled his way into the room to supervise.

Allen stomped his foot and then pointed to Newt's bad one.

"What-?" Newt was lost.

Gally cleared his throat. "I think he wants you t-to put weight on your bad leg."

Allen stomped his foot again.

Newt straightened his bad leg and placed it on the floor, wincing at the pain that shot up from his knee and into his hip. "It hurts. That's what I've been tellin' them." He offered the information freely. As Allen circled him he started to babble, "It starts in the knee." Newt pointed to the spot specifically, "Then shoots up my leg to here," he massaged the top crest of his hip. "Can barely stand on it and almost pass out when I try to walk. Hurts so bloody much." He looked at Allen as he talked but was never greeted back.

Allen had concluded that they had snapped the tibia bone back together correctly so that it would fuse to its other half but they had not properly put the entire bone back where it belonged. The reason for Newt's pain was most likely because the top part of the tibia was rubbing directly against Newt's knee cap and even possibly his femur. It would cause nerve damage and explain the shooting pain up into his hip. Allen got a little bit of enjoyment knowing that Newt was in very real pain because of it. But he was going to get even more enjoyment out of what he had to do next.

He pointed back to the bed and Newt sat down.

"What's going on?" Minho asked poking his head in.

"Al' is going to fix Newt's leg." Gally said stepping out of the doorway for Minho to join.

"Oh," Not having been with them this morning, Minho smiled. "Perfect! Do you need help?"

Allen shook his head. He put a hand on Newt's shoulder and leaned in. "Don't move," Allen whispered in his ear so only Newt heard him. The voice sent a shiver down Newt's spine.

He would have to pull the bone down and push it over so that it would pop back into its socket. It would be painful. Allen stepped to the side to get a better grip and then kneeled down with one knee on the floor and the other giving Newt's leg something to rest against. He took a deep breath. Put one had on Newt's thigh and the second gripped his ankle. In one fluid motion Allen pulled down on the ankle, bringing the tibia with it and then leaned into the leg from the side and pushed the bone into its socket. There was a loud _'pop!_ ' when Allen pulled and a deep, unnerving, crunching noise as he slid it back over and into the joint.

* * *

 **Told you that the wait wouldn't be long ;)**

 **Tell me what you think and have a great weekend!**

 **-Alison**


	6. Chapter 6

Her hair had been washed. Detangled, cleaned, and maybe even brushed. Not recently, but definitely since they had last seen Grace. Even in the dark warehouse you could tell that it was a few shades lighter too. Her hair jutted out in every direction from the goggles that had been pushed high onto her forehead. Not a single strand hung in Grace's face like it used to. She seemed fuller. Taller. Her cheeks less hallow. The bruises had been wiped away along with the years of caked on dirt, sweat, and blood. Grace's skin was smooth where Allen's had been rough. It was the first time she had worn a fitted shirt and, while they weren't large due to malnourishment, it was obvious that Grace hadn't found a bra. Allen didn't have those either. Nor did he have the wide eyes or faint pink cheeks. Allen was dirty and beaten and broken. She wasn't.

The Glader's didn't know this girl, not directly.

Grace yanked her axe out of the boy's hand and took a step back. They were the first living people she had encountered so far. Grace scanned the group. Boys. Long shadows demonized their faces. She took another step back. Were these _the_ boys, Grace wondered? _"Banish him,"_ it rang out clearly from the void. _"Banish him,"_ sang again in a different voice. _"Banish him, banish him, banish him."_ It felt like hundreds of people were speaking inside Grace's head. She balled her fist and hit her temple trying to make it stop.

The Glader's watched in confusion. She looked dangerous in a way. Crazed, almost. It was hard for Minho to watch as she hit herself repeatedly. He reached out and tried to get her to stop. "Allen its ok, _you're ok_."

Touching her wasn't smart. When Grace felt Minho's hands on her a dark sense of abandonment boiled inside her chest. She pulled away from him and swung blindly again wanting the feeling to just go away. This time Thomas interjected and grabbed the axe. Grace put up a fight but when Teresa joined in she didn't stand much of a chance and Grace lost her weapon.

Minho tried again, "Allen look at me-."

"MY NAME ISN'T ALLEN!" She shouted back at him. A weird feeling of relief washed over her as she said the words.

Her voice was clear and not masked with garbled mucus or choking noises. Minho stopped completely and let the pitch ring in his ears. Even if she was yelling at him he couldn't help but feel his heart rate pick up. That wasn't Allen's voice either.

Grace was taking short breaths, shock settling in more than anything. She turned and stared at the group. Outnumbered and unarmed Grace had very few options; fight through them and back out into the storm, go back into the shadows where she knew more zombies were waiting, or—

There was a loud bang nearby and a flood of light filled the warehouse. A door had been kicked open and exposed all the dangers that were around them. Grace hadn't been wrong. Nearly a hundred cranks were chained in place as a booby-trap for trespassers. A silhouette of a single individual stood in the doorframe.

"A bunch of robbers and thieves or missionaries come to save our souls?" A voice called out. From the light stepped a girl small in stature but cunning in looks. "Jorge will decide."

"Who are you?" Thomas spoke for the group.

The girl stopped in front of them after walking along a path that the infected people couldn't reach. "I think the better question is, _who are you?_ "

"My name is Thomas and these are my friends. We don't want to cause any problems we just want-,"

"We'll see about that. Are you all together?" The girl had noticed the gap between the Gladers and Grace. It was too far for friends to stand apart.

"No," Grace said quickly. "They-,"

The girl put up a hand, "Save it for Jorge. Come with me-," she turned and started walking down the path between monsters, "unless you see a better way out."

There wasn't one. Thomas turned and waited for the unanimous nod from the group that they should follow. Minho kept an eye on Grace and in a single file the group began to move. Grace didn't have much of a choice she realized when a nudge from Minho to start walking hit her in the back. She didn't want to go. She didn't want to be lumped in with this group of runaways. But another nudge came from a boy with tousled blond hair and between the two they began to lead Grace forward.

The group was fairly small, only seven. Grace craned her neck behind them as if they were missing people. Expecting several more groups of boys to come out of the darkness and begin walking with them. Grace could feel it in her gut. People were missing from this group. Shadows that were supposed to be there with them.

They climbed through the warehouse and up to the highest office where a man and his goons were waiting for them. The people were rugged, dirty, and mean looking. Grace decided almost immediately that the world had not been nice to these people. Greasy hair and dirt from years ago stuck under their nails. Grace tried to pull away from the nearest man without being too obvious.

Behind a large desk in the center of the room was a man with greying curls and almond skin. He had his hands followed behind his back and a look of distain. "What did you find this time, Brenda?"

"Stowaways," the girl said as she stepped forward and took a rightful place next to Jorge.

"Well let's not be rude then, let me introduce myself; My name is Jorge and these are my colleagues. Who might you be?" He was a business man. More observant than Janson. Grace titled her chin up to try and meet Jorge's level of confidence.

"My name is Thomas and these are my friends, we're just trying to get to the mountains. We don't want any trouble." Everyone around Thomas nodded, except for Grace, who was slowly inching her way further from the clump of boys.

"The mountains? And what might you be running from that would push you in to the mountains?"

Thomas tried to think of something but he wasn't fast enough. A blow from behind knocked everyone on to their knees. Brenda moved quickly and shoved Thomas's head down and scanned something on the back of his neck. "They're with WCKD." She said confidently reading the screen.

"Well, well, well now we're talking more of my language. Someone radio the district and let them know we'll return their positions for a _worthy_ price." Jorge waved a hand, dismissing the group. His goons reached to pull Thomas and the rest up and out but the Gladers wouldn't go without a fight.

"No! No, please. We're trying to get to a safe place in the mountains. Just let us go, we'll leave right now." Thomas threw off the hand that was trying to keep him in place and stepped towards Jorge to show that he meant business.

"It's not personal, hermano. You see, WCKD can offer me a pretty prize for you and if I let you go then I don't get my money. So it's not so much that I don't feel for you," Jorge put a hand over his heart, "It's that you just have nothing to offer me."

The group was stunned by this man's lack of compassion. "Maybe the Right Arm does, maybe we can work something out with them!" The urgency in Thomas' voice was cutting and desperate but seemed to put a pause on Jorge's decision.

He surveyed the group quietly trying to make up his mind. Judging each one of the young teens at face value. "Fairytales." Jorge flicked his wrist and the Glader's were carried off. Two goons to each member. Thomas fought them, so did the blond boy and the two larger ones in the group. Grace was thinking of alternative ways out; sliding off to the side, tripping her guards and running, playing possum and hoping to catch them off guard. But nothing added together for a decent plan and before long the group had been led to a large circular hanging area and were individually tied by the ankles.

When the first guard swung Thomas into the air and he dropped 20 feet before stopping midair Grace nearly threw up. Her stomach flipped in fear. _"Come on down, Newt! What do you think you're doing up there?"_ A familiar voice called from the void. Thomas's girl was thrown over next. Dropping quickly and coming to an abrupt halt next to him 20 feet down. Grace could feel the blood drain from her face.

"N-no." She began to plead, digging her heals into the concrete and leaning back away from the edge. "No, please no! Don't throw me! Please don't throw me!" Grace kicked wildly trying to shake off the rope that had already been knotted. Panic set in like she had never experienced and tears formed in her eyes as the guard tried to control her. "NO! Stop it! Let go of me! No!" Grace yelled, her voice becoming more shrill with desperation.

Newt watched as Grace began to thrash violently away from the opening. A dry lump formed in his throat and he was having difficulties swallowing it. "Leave her," he said with little confidence. They shoved Frypan over the side and he began to swing on the other end like a pendulum. Grace let out a scream this time and let her body drop to the floor trying to make herself too heavy to move. "Leave her!" Newt said again with anger. He had never known that Allen was afraid of heights but the realization hit him quickly. Of course Allen would be afraid of heights. "Just tie her up or somethin'!" Newt tried to elbow his guards off of him to get to Grace and help.

"I have a better idea," one of the men holding Grace huffed. He picked Grace up in an easy bear hug and walked her to the side of the edge. Struck down with fear Grace couldn't even muster a whimper. She clawed at the man's skin as she faced plummeting to the hard cement 50 feet below. _"We'll lower him down then you and me will go."_ A calm voice whispered inside her head. Grace shook her head and before she could muster a scream the man dropped her abruptly.

When Grace finally managed to open her eyes again the world had been turned upside down. Her arms felt stiff from hanging above her head and the amount of blood pooled in her temple was giving Grace a splitting headache. A groan escaped as her mind acknowledged that she was dangling 30 feet in the air.

"Shhh, she's awake." A voice came from behind her. He cleared his throat, " _Grace_?" The name didn't sound right in Minho's mouth.

Grace closed her eyes and opened them several times trying to decide if this was real or not. Only when the voice called her again did she finally make any sign of recognition. With her back to the rest of the group, Grace tried to look over her shoulder and became very nauseous in the process. Behind her were the boys. Half of her had hoped it had all been a nightmare.

"What'd they do to you in there, are you ok? We didn't want to leave you behind."

She threw a rather nasty look over her shoulder quickly. "Leave _me_ behind?" The face and the voice still didn't match to everyone watching her. " _I don't even know you_."

It dawned on everyone in the group at the same time. Her standoffish behavior, the lack of recognition, Allen's inability to approach any of them; she didn't remember. Not only did Newt and Minho begin to feel their heart break just the slightest but so did Zart, who had known Allen's secret for only a few days in the Glade and grown to like the idea of a girl being close to him. It was like having a series bricks at the bottom of an already unstable wall suddenly crumble into dust. The wall creaked and moaned, then shifted just slightly as the foundation and security weakened. Allen had always been just that; a wall. A sturdy brick wall that had never moved nor changed in the years that they had known him. Through bad weather or hardship, Allen always remained but now, now the foundation of his basic being had been dislodged and the reinforcements of memories were erased. Allen was no longer, it seemed as the brick wall collapsed, and it broke their hearts to see his corpse dangling in front of them with new eyes and a clear voice.

But something pulled at them just below their navel, like a magnet searching for its other half and gravitating towards Grace. The wall might have fallen but behind it was something else for each of the three Gladers. Zart saw the face of a pretty girl who knew his name. Newt felt the tug of a previous debt beckoning him forward to protect a helpless and abandoned girl. And Minho found himself facing a feeling he'd never encountered before; affection. It made his chest ache.

"Don't say that," Minho tried to say with a smile. "You know us you Slint-head, we're your friends."

Grace remained quiet as her body slowly turned on the rope to face them. "I've seen pictures, you know." The statement was dry and caught them off guard. "I saw what I looked like after years of being tormented by a group of unnamed boys," Grace flicked her eyes between each one accusingly, confident that they were the ones who caused her so much pain. "I don't know you," she repeated again, "and I don't want to." Something was knocking from inside the void in her mind, asking to come in. _knock knock knock,_ it rang out dully, _knock knock knock._ She ignored the calls too afraid to face whatever was asking to come through.

"Torment? We never tormented you." Zart called out offended, half wanting her attention. He got it, too.

"How do you explain my bruises or scars, then? If you know me so well, how did I burn my hand? Why are my palms torn to shit and had bruises on my neck in the perfect shape of a hand print? Or a fading black eye? Or stains on my skin so thick and old that even chemicals couldn't remove them?" The questions rang out like bullets one right after the other each hitting the Glader's in the stomach. "I was tormented," Grace said again, "used like someone's punching bag - !"

"That wasn't us," Grace shot her eyes over to meet Thomas. "Look, a lot of stuff has happened and we don't know what happened when WCKD took you, but all this stuff you think we did it isn't true. We'll explain, I promise we will, but right now it's best if you stick with us. We have to get out of here first and then I'll explain everything. I promise." Thomas was irritated at this point with everything but tried to keep is tone even.

Grace hesitated. She didn't trust these people, but she trusted the ones who strung her up even less.

"You don't remember us, and that's fine." Thomas started again seeing that Grace was trying to decide. "My name is Thomas, ok? Let's start from the ground up. How's that sound? This is Teresa and Aris." He pointed to the people closest to him. "That's Frypan and Zart, then Newt and Minho. They've known you the longest and you know them."

 _Newt._ The name silenced the knocking in her mind. Grace glared at him openly without any real reason. Something in her hated him with a passion. For a moment Newt thought that she had remembered everything but the dislike simmering out of Grace wasn't specific or with reason. It was more innate like the way a cat is born to hate a dog.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Minho chimed in breaking the tension. "I'll make sure no one else does either."

There was a moment of pause as Grace calculated her options. She wouldn't be able to get down from here by herself, just the idea of hanging in the air was making her nauseas, and the goons of Jorge outnumbered them. She wouldn't stand a chance on her own. The incentive of hearing what the boys had to say had a very small impact on her. Part of Grace didn't want to remember. Just the shear amount of physical pain that was obviously inflicted on her was enough to destroy the want to know her past. No, Grace wanted to get out of here and away from everyone. That was it. She'd move with the group until she got out of this warehouse and then run for it. She looked to Thomas after pulling her eyes off Minho, "Fine."

Over the next half hours the Glader's developed a plan to get themselves down. There was a lever off to the side that was attached to ceiling and ultimately them and their ropes. The group figured that if they got a hold of the lever and pulled it, they could drop down to the floor and make a run for it before WCKD showed up to snatch them. Getting to the lever was the hard part. They began to push Teresa from person to person until she gained enough momentum to swing from side to side, closer and closer to the lever. Watching Teresa move so freely on a rope that could easily snap, and the fact that she was on a very similar rope, caused Grace to dip in and out of consciousness.

Finally, just as the Glader's arms were about to give out from exertion, Teresa was pushed once more by Minho and was able to wrap her fingers around the handle. There was a moment where the tension released itself from Grace's ankles and she seemed to hover in the air. Her stomach flipped over just before gravity took hold and the group plummeted to the ground.

There was no graceful way to land. Everyone fell flat on their stomachs, knees, or backs. It knocked the wind out of each one of them. The crash, along with the groans and moans from impact grabbed the attention of Jorge and the events of their escape followed suit.

The Glader's untied themselves as quickly as they could. Minho finished first and rushed over to help Grace. Shortly after Newt joined them and together they hoisted Grace up from her feet and stood next to her like guard dogs. The Gladers stood together closely and waited for their next set of directions.

"Stick together," was all Thomas was able to get out before chaos broke out around them.

Screaming from deep within the warehouse and frantic gun fire began. Helicopters could be heard whirring overhead. Someone was yelling over a loud speaker from above. WCKD was here. The Glader's turned to run for it but came face to face with Brenda. "If you guys want to get out of here and find the Right Arm then follow me, we'll get you there, but we have to get out of here first." She turned and ran off through a side door.

Grace was dumbfounded by how quickly the Glader's tossed their trust over to girl who was so willing to sell them out only an hour ago. She wanted to run the opposite direction but was stopped by both Newt and Minho who sensed Grace's urge to flee. "Sorry, Al'." Minho said quickly out of habit before grabbing her arm and dragging her forward.

Brenda rushed them through the warehouse turning sharply around corners and skirting active gun fire, leading the Gladers into mystery. "There!" Brenda shouted and came to a stop. Music had begun to play over the grainy loud speaker. "We're running out of time, quickly, up to Jorge's office." Brenda ushered everyone in front of her and up a set of stairs back towards Jorge's office. Frypan and Aris took lead of the group and before long they were tumbling in to the office where Jorge himself was frantically packing a duffle bag. Bullets were whizzing past their heads and the song was reaching its middle chorus.

"Where's Brenda?" Jorge demanded suddenly.

Newt looked around and didn't see Thomas either. "They were just here -,"

"There's no time, now!" Jorge pursed his lips, hoping Brenda would fall through the doorframe. "This way." He pushed open a side window and grabbed what looked like an old bicycle handlebar. He slung it over a wire hanging from the ceiling that angled out of the window and into the night. "Who's first?"

No one stepped forward. In fact, Grace took a step back.

"You, here!" Jorge motioned for the boy named Aris. Finding no air to argue, Aris stepped forward and grabbed onto the handlebars. Jorge said something that no one could hear over the commotion, and then gave Aris a first shove out the window. Grace took another step back. "Quickly!" Jorge barked motioning everyone forward. "The song is almost over!"

Frypan was next, slipping into the night holding on a worn rag over the wire. Then went Zart with a hesitant look over his shoulder. They all disappeared into the darkness and over to the next building almost 200 feet away.

Minho had to lean into Grace to get her to move closer to the window. "For shuck sake, Grace, come on we gotta get out of here!"

It was too much for Grace. She had become pale again and every fiber of her being was screaming at her to not get any closer to the open window.

"She's not gonna want to jump on her own," Newt said quickly trying to find a solution. "She's afraid of heights." He noticed the panicked expression on her face and felt nothing by sympathy for Grace. Her eyes were wide and terrified.

Minho stopped trying to shove Grace and took a minute to observe her too. She flicked her eyes between Newt, Minho, and the window. For the first time in what felt like eternity Minho saw an expression etched into Allen's face that wasn't hatred or sadness. He wanted to reach out and hold her close. So did Newt.

"We haven't got time for this," Jorge urged them. He picked up an old rusted piece of heavy chain and threw it over the wire. "Someone grab her and let's move."

Minho did just that before giving her the ability to run away from him. He grabbed hold of Grace by the waist tightly and tugged her over to the window. With one arm clenched around Grace, the other twisted itself in the chain and he launched them out of the window.

The cool night hair rushed against their faces. Grace gripped tightly on to Minho, burying herself into him, as a last ditch effort to save herself from falling. He smelled of smoke.

 _Knock knock knock_ , the void sounded again, like someone was hitting wood to find a hollowed spot.

* * *

 **B.T.**

Allen reached up and itched his head. He thought he felt a bug crawling through his hair again. To no one's surprise, Allen's fingers ran in to a beetle. He squished it and pulled the bug out of the tangled knots. It wasn't the first time it had happened, and most certainly not the last. He hoped that it just hadn't laid eggs in his hair.

It was day break and he was sitting up against a tree watching the Glade come to life. Minho was the first one up with Alby and two new boys that had come up in the months prior. They stretched and packed away a few snacks before their long day of running. Winston dusted himself off and stiffly moved to the barn. He was the boy that Allen had always wanted in the Glade, someone to butcher the animals, but now that he was here Allen felt a little cold towards him. They'd never spoken, but anyone who could kill animals so effortlessly didn't sit well with Allen. Newt limped out of the homestead and did the same thing Allen was doing; watching. He wandered if Newt noticed him here, sitting under the dark shade from the trees hidden behind a stack of wood.

Newt did. He always noticed Allen. They were too far apart for either to notice the other looking back at them. One with hatred, the other with guilt.

Gally woke up last, shaking off last nights sleep and walking towards the kitchens before anything else. He was only in there for a few minutes before exiting again and heading straight for Allen with a second plate.

Allen watched him out of the corner of his eye as he still glared at Newt, lost in thought. "Hey, shuck face, over here." Gally had stuck the plate of food next to Allen's face much sooner than he anticipated. He gave Gally a small look before taking the plate and shoving a piece of bacon in his mouth.

Gally sat down next to Allen and ate his own breakfast. "You going to be around today?" It was a rhetorical question of course. "We're going to be building some more tables to eat at and chairs, Alby says we should build for more people just in case. The Greenie got dropped off with Hank and I, so there will be at least one crushed thumb or cut by the end of the day. I'll probably call you over sooner rather than later."

It had been routine for them over the last few months to eat breakfast together. Although Allen would never admit it, Gally knew it made her feel less left out. There had been little progress made, if any at all, besides Allen slowing down on how much wood she chopped a day and being willing to eat again. Gally always asked if she slept at all the night before, and it was either a shake of the head or a shrug. The shrug usually meant she tried to sleep, the shake of a head meant that Allen just stayed awake all night staring at the fire.

"Frypan's been cooking really well recently, but I think he'll need an extra set of hands soon if boys keep getting sent up." Gally spooned eggs into his mouth and chewed noisily. "But we're startin' to get regular stuff sent with the Greenies and every other week, which is nice. Stuff like rope and wood. Makes building a hell'a lot easier. Medicine was dropped off the other day too, if you want to do that today. Go in and organize it and stuff. It's just sittin' in the bedroom upstairs right now. You would know what it is, I told no one to touch it till you had a look."

Allen ate slowly, chewing each piece of bacon as if it was his last bite. He was listening intently to Gally, even if his gaze was a world away.

"Minho was saying that the Maze has been quiet. Haven't heard klunk in a while from the Grievers. Said that the walls don't even look like they've changed. You seen anything different lately?"

He shook his head. Allen sees a lot of things; boys sneaking into the kitchen, Newt tossing and turning all night long, Minho running in his sleep, Alby's late night walks to clear his head, but nothing suspicious.

"Well keep your eye out. With all these Newbies floating around we have to be careful until we can trust them. Alby's doing a good job though of putting 'em in their places right away. Explaining the rules and stuff. Have you seen the new one?"

Allen actually had a small run in with the Newbie the other night. He was a burly older boy, one of the older one's they've gotten in the Glade, and was lost the other night stumbling around in the dark after going to the bathroom. It happened more often than any of the boys would care to admit, but he was clearly embarrassed. Allen purposefully made the fire large at night so that boys could find their way back to bed. It was beyond him how they continued to get lost – _even Gally does it sometimes!_ Allen nodded that she had seen the Greenie, yes.

"Nice kid so far, kind of slow, keeps hanging around the flower garden that we planted ages ago. If he can manage a hammer I'll take him with me, Winston doesn't want him. Apparently he nearly cut off his finger when he was with the Slicers. Still can't remember his name though." Gally shook his head with pitty. Some took longer than others to remember their names. "Ah well, they come around."

They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence, Allen only finishing half of his plate. "I was wondering if I could come hang out with you tonight by the fire or somethin', feel like I haven't seen you in a long time for some reason even if I see you every morning." Gally extended his legs out and propped himself up on his elbows. "Chat like we used to without me having to run off right away."

Allen didn't shrug or nod. Truth be told, while Gally was comforting, she didn't care one way or another.

"Maybe you could whisper to me, like you used to. I miss hearing your voice Al', you haven't spoken in months. Not even a grunt." He admitted his feelings freely and without shame, something Allen always admired about Gally. "I miss jokin' with you."

The Glade stirred into full motion and Allen let out a long yawn. He had to go. The conversation turned and he had no interest in it anymore. He left the plate on the ground next to Gally and stood to leave him there. "Al', come on. You gotta talk at some point. I haven't heard you in ages."

With one hand Allen pointed to himself, then his mouth, then gave one arching wave with an open palm. _"I talk all the time."_

* * *

 **If you couldn't tell by how short the B.T. section was, that is where I hit my writers block. For some reason writing that section of this chapter was super difficult. But! Its posted now and hopefully you accept my apologies for delay and boringness in the second half.**

 **Let me know what you think and sorry for the absence.**

 **\- Alison**


	7. Chapter 7

There hadn't been any time to waste. As soon as they landed in the other building, Jorge led the Gladers through a series of hidden tunnels and doors. At one point in time they were running across deteriorating roof tops, and another in a tunnel underground. Just as the Gladers were beginning to get tired Jorge pushed open one last final door and the group burst in to the cool air of the desert. The smoke from the burning warehouse billowed far behind them. Helicopters circled the air trying to locate the missing convicts.

"Thomas -,"

"Is with Brenda." Jorge cut Newt off. "They'll be ok. She knows this wasteland better than I do, we'll meet them at Marcus's club house. Brenda knows what to do."

The cold night air ran across their skin and each Glader shivered. "Where will we go then?" They had to put all their trust in to this man. A stranger. They did not know where they were going or where to find Thomas again. Each one of them had to have blind faith that Jorge will lead them to safety and not to death.

Jorge looked out in to the landscape from all directions. There were hiding spots all over the abandoned city he and Brenda had scoped out and stocked with essentials in case something like this happened and they needed a quick escape. "There's a cave just a mile that way," he pointed to a nearby rocky outcrop. "It'll have some food and water. We'll stay there for the night then get to Marcus's tomorrow. It isn't far from here and walking all night won't help anything." Jorge started to move before all of their muscles became cold.

As they walked Grace tried to keep a fair distance between herself and everyone else in the group. Newt and Minho were paying the most attention to her with Zart peering over their shoulders. The three boys walked in an uncoordinated triangle around Grace. Minho to her left, Newt to her right and Zart walking behind. The plans for running away were currently on hold. Grace was too tired and too outnumbered to try and escape tonight. Plus the promise of food and water was what she needed right now to survive.

None of the Gladers said a word to Grace as they walked towards the cave. Each one of them was mulling over a conversation they wanted to have with her in their head. Zart just wanted to get to know her better and apologize for not trying to help her sooner. He imagined this new Allen confiding in him and them becoming close as the days passed until they were inseparable. Newt's discussion with Grace would be a little more detailed. Newt wanted to apologize for things, let her yell at him for all that he's done to her, and show her how much he cared. He looked at her constantly out of the corner of his eye, wondering what exactly she thought of him. And finally Minho – thinking less of the verbal side and more of the physical. There were no words that could accurately describe this emotion in his chest, but a long hug could. All three had different fantasies running through their mind currently but, the one thing they had in common was that each boy was convinced that they would be the ones to help Grace remember who she was.

When they arrived in the cave each person was handed a bottle of water, a canned food, and a blanket by Jorge while Teresa took the initiative to start a fire. "A small one," Jorge urged her. "We don't want to draw attention to ourselves."

Before long the excitement of the day caught up with them and one by one the Gladers made themselves comfortable and fell into an uneasy sleep. Frypan, Teresa, and Aris huddled closest to the fire for warmth and were asleep first. Jorge took watch at the opening of the cave and listened as the night moved around them. Zart sat several feet the left of Grace along the back wall, too nervous to do or say anything. After several hours of tense silence, Zart finally retreated from Grace's side and fell asleep in a corner.

Minho and Newt, whom had been conversing in hushed tones on the other side of the cave keeping a close eye on Grace, made their move towards her once Zart was gone. They had been talking about the best way to approach her and _'alone'_ seemed to be the best option. As they walked over Grace didn't acknowledged them and continued to stare into the dying embers. Minho sat down cross legged in front of her but it was like he wasn't even there. Grace's eyes didn't move and she continued to stare straight through him into the fire. Newt sat next to her, nearly touching her shoulder.

"Grace we need to talk to you," Minho said in a hushed but serious voice.

"What if I don't want to talk to you?" She responded in the same tone without raising her eyes.

Newt bit his lip, "We need to know what WCKD told you so that we can tell you what really happened. You can't believe them, Grace, whatever they said. We're you're friends."

 _Friends._ The word tasted sour in her mouth. "They didn't tell me anything. They showed me pictures of what I looked like. The pictures were pretty self-explanatory."

Minho and Newt knew what Grace looked like when they arrived at the WCKD facility. The image of her taking off her shirt to reveal an infected, beaten, and thin body would forever be engrained in their mind. She was in bad shape. She was sick and ill and on death doorstep, there was no denying it. But how could they explain to her that it wasn't them? That it was another boy, one that was dead, and her own actions that made Grace appear the way she was.

"You wouldn't eat anything, Grace." Minho started, "you wouldn't drink. You hid in the woods and would only come out at night. We couldn't have hurt you because we never saw you, don't you remember?"

Distant noises of trees rustling in the wind whispered out from her dark mind. Little clips of sunlight breaking through a thick canopy finally made her clench her eyes shut and shake her head slightly. A death glare came up to greet Minho. "There were hand marks on my neck, heels of shoes cut into my side from being kicked-,"

"Maybe we should start from the beginning." Newt cut in feeling anger rise in her voice. "You were there when they arrived in the Glade, right Minho?"

He nodded and took a minute before beginning his story. Minho wasn't sure if retelling what happened in the Glade would help, but he tried regardless. He spoke quietly about how the Glade and how small it was in the beginning. How Allen, what they called her before, was never allowed to speak because Greg would forbid it. How everything was fine, even after George died, and how Allen was always the one to fix the boys if they got injured. Minho emphasized they no one knew what she was from the moment she arrived until the very moment they left and faced WCKD. But finally he arrived at the first downfall in Grace's story and had difficulties bringing himself to explain it. It still pained Minho to recount the day that Greg died. "He was up on top of the shuckin' maze and he got tangled in the vines. Greg must've fell a hundred feet." Tears wanted to swell in Minho's eyes but he wouldn't allow it.

Grace showed no emotions to the story and continued to listen with pursed lips and a hard glare. "After that things just went down-hill, I think." Minho explained how Allen never fully recovered from Greg's death and how she kind of went off the deep end. Avoiding people and not even trying to communicate with anyone in any way. Then he told Grace about Gally and the day he got stung. How he harassed her for some time after and often beat her up. They tried to stop him, Minho swore, and after a while he laid off of her until Thomas arrived. When Thomas arrived the story went quickly and escalated at the same speed. The specifics about what Allen had been doing though became broad, as if Minho could only speculate what had happened. Newt tried to add in here and there but ultimately neither of them knew for sure what had happened in the final days of the Glade for Allen besides how she managed to ruin her hand.

When they finished Grace remained silent. Contemplating the story they had just told her. It was detailed and something that would have taken up a lot of time and effort to conjure up. If Grace was previously as self-destructive as these two boys claimed, it would explain most of her smaller injuries. The small burns on her arms, the tiny scars on her good hand and legs, even the callouses – which were useful now when wielding the axe she stole from WCKD. In some situations, their explanations made sense. In others, it did not.

The most upsetting factor of their story was the boy named Greg. The name sounded familiar, the most familiar out of any of them, but she couldn't find his face. They talked about him as if he was a part of Allen, of her, and how the world shattered around her when he died. Grace would have remembered someone who meant that much to her.

Minho watched as Grace stared back at him. She was looking at him, but not focused on him. He could tell by her stare that she was trying to add everything together. "You have to believe us, Grace. We wouldn't hurt you." Minho added softly, almost begging her to remember him.

There was a _'pop!'_ from a piece of ember exploding in the fire that kicked something alive inside Grace's head. She could feel the heat on her shins and cheeks as her body reacted to a memory. Something was coming from the void in her mind and instead of trying to shake it away Grace clenched her eyes shut and gritted her teeth, ready to face whatever horrors were about to come out.

But it wasn't a horror, instead it was a peaceful feeling. She was sitting, much like she was right now, in front of fire in a field of grass. The fire was crackling and popping, lighting up the area around her. There were hammocks tied to posts weighed down with sleeping bodies in them. Occasional grunts of snores could be heard. She wasn't tied up and she wasn't starving. Grace was just existing and finding whatever peace she could with the world. A familiar sorrow sunk into her chest of loneliness and abandonment.

The shock of a cold hand being placed on her knees tore her away from the memory. "I don't remember any of that, it doesn't make sense." Grace said quickly, pushing Minho's hand away. "I don't remember burning my hand to kill a Griever or know who Greg is -," A rock formed in her throat when his name came out. Her cheeks went warm for no reason at all and her nose began to prickle. She closed her mouth to try and suppress her emotions but caught site of Newt staring at her. "Nothing makes sense," she said to him in a shaky voice.

Newt's chest swelled with empathy. It ached for her. He moved to put an arm around Grace and pull her in but she batted it away in defense and tried to get away from both of them. Minho, wanting nothing more than to finally hold her, saw his opportunity and smoothly met her before she got out of reach and tightly wrapped his arms around her waist. With one simple movement he went from sitting in front of her to against the wall with Grace tightly held against his chest.

Grace resisted at first and tried to squirm away from him, but Minho wouldn't budge and eventually Grace accepted him. Still unsure of who they were or what their history was, Grace was forced to realize that at least Minho wasn't her enemy.

Tear slid down her face as the cave grew darker from the dying fire. After what felt like hours, she finally relaxed and succumbed to the rhythmic heart beats echoing in Minho's chest. Before she could fully fall asleep a third hand placed itself lightly on one of hers.

Newt had moved over closer to them and sat almost shoulder to shoulder with Minho. Grace felt the heat of his body warm her backside and then his hand be placed on top of hers. He squeezed it lightly and let it lay there, letting Grace know that he, along with Minho were there to protect her.

The closeness between the three Gladers was not uncomfortable or filled with sexual tension. It was the physical action of a promise being made; that neither of them would hurt Grace and neither of them would let her be hurt. The sense of finally feeling safe prompted Grace to speak. "I just woke up," Grace muttered softly. "Everything was white and they wouldn't let me leave my room." Both boys remained quiet to let her finish. "I knew they weren't there for me, I knew they were up to something. This one lady came in and was testing me with objects. One of them was the axe and I took the opportunity to hit her with it." She waited for judgement to come but it never did. Both boys had done their fair share of dangerous escape plans and Grace would soon realize that. "I ran for it not really knowing where I was going."

"We were relieved to see you alive, Al'." Newt responded, his eyes already half closed from exhaustion. "We thought you were dead." All three of them ignored the incorrect name. It was force of habit and felt natural. Grace was too tired to care.

As Grace fell asleep she did not feel conflicted about the boys touching her or uneasy with unspoken intentions. The three of them were finding peace in each-others existence. Comfort in one another's touch. In a world that had been so chaotic it was nice to be surrounded by friends for a fleeting moment.

When Minho felt Grace's breathing slow and was confident she had fallen asleep he spoke very quietly to Newt. "She doesn't remember her own brother."

"I think that's for the best, don't you?" Newt mumbled after a moment. If Grace didn't remember Greg then she didn't remember how he died, or what caused him to die. Selfishly, Newt hoped for a fleeting second that Grace would never remember.

Minho didn't know how to answer that.

All night he stared at the opposite side of the cave wall and pondered what to do. As the hours wore on Grace's body weight became uncomfortable for him but Minho refused to adjust her. She was twitching in her sleep. He felt Newts sleeping hand slide off of Grace's and hit the floor. Minho waited a moment before reaching up and tucking her hand away in his. He held her solely. Just him. Minho rested his chin on the top of her head and tried to memorize every aspect of this moment. The pull in his chest to keep Grace close to him grew and deepened. He focused in on her hand. The day he went out to the Glade to fetch Allen so he could sit in on the Gathering regarding Thomas rolled through his mind. _How could he have picked up_ _Allen's hand and looked at them so carelessly without realizing how small and thin they were?_ Even in the darkness now, without looking, he could tell these were not male hands. There were so many instances that should have alerted Minho over the years to Allen and what he truly was. The guilt was almost too much to bear.

As the night wore on Minho nodded in and out of an uneasy sleep. Grace began to mumble and pull away from whatever it was that she was dreaming about. He caught occasional words, _"run", "don't",_ and _"can't."_ It was during one of the periods where Minho wasn't sure if he was sleeping or awake but he could have sworn that Grace was tapping on his chest like how Allen used to when trying to communicate. He reached in to his dreams to try and remember what it meant.

* * *

 **B.T.**

"Gally can I talk to you for a minute?" Newt scratched the back of his head looking a little unsure of what he was doing.

Gally was bent over trying to sand down a nearly finished table. The tension between Newt and him had eased just slightly since Greg's death and because Allen wouldn't go near Newt. "Yeah, alright. What's going on?"

"Well Alby and I were thinkin' that maybe we should bring Allen in, good that? Check in on him and stuff. It's been almost a year now and we haven't seen him at all. Most of the boys here now don't even know he's out there."

"It's only been a couple months, shank. Lay off him."

Newt cleared his throat, "Actually Alby marked Greg's death down and we've been keeping a calendar for some time. It'll be a full year next week."

Gally crumpled the sand paper in his hand and thought for a moment. _Had it really been a full year?_ "I don't know. He likes it out there." He didn't want Newt or Alby, or quite frankly anyone to go near Allen. Now that Greg was gone he was the only one who knew about Allen's secret and he intended on helping him keep it. Allowing Allen to stay in the woods allowed him to accomplish that and it also kept Allen for himself. Gally liked knowing that he was the only to see Allen, it made him feel special. Like he had a secret gem tucked away in his pocket that no one else could touch.

"We think it's important the other Glader's know who he is. Apparently he scared the klunk out of one of the Runners and Minho couldn't get him to relax. Started spreadin' rumors that there's someone else in here with us that's trying to kill 'em in their sleep."

 _Good._ Gally thought, let them think that Allen was a monster, that'd keep them away from her. "So?"

" _So –_ we don't want none of the newbies gettin' any bright ideas about going out and hurting him. What would happen if Allen is out one night and scares someone that has a knife on them? The Slicer's carry them all the time, I'm sure others do too."

"What does Alby want to do?" Gally never considered that option. Especially since he knows that Allen does come out quite often during the night. "He won't come if he knows that the whole Glade will be there."

Newt motioned for Gally to follow him and as they walked towards the Homestead to find Alby they discussed their options. "What if we bring groups out to him in the Dead Heads? That way he won't have to go anywhere"

Gally shook his head, that wouldn't work. "No, I don't think he'd want people to come out to his spot."

They found Alby sitting in the middle of the room at a table checking lists of inventory in the Glade. He looked up and put his pen down, knowing full well the two were here for. "Well, what do you think Gally?"

He sighed, "I think you're right. 'Never thought about someone gettin' spooked by him in the night."

"Since last year there've been twelve new guys that have arrived. I think maybe one of those twelve have seen Allen. Frank from the Slicer's saw him last week and got scared, been telling everyone since then that there's someone in the woods wanting to kill us. We've tried to tell them that it's just Allen, but we don't think they believe us." He folded his hands over the papers he was working on. "Just trying to stop a problem before it happens."

Newt took a seat on a dusty and beaten couch. Gally sat on the arm rest furthest from him with his arms crossed. "Gally doesn't think that we should take people out there, which means we have to get him to come to us. Small groups preferred."

"We can divide them up by area. Slicers, Gardeners, Builders, Runners…" Gally added to be helpful. Currently the groups weren't more than a few people which would be perfect.

"I mean, we're not introducing him to everyone here. He knows some of us. You, me, Newt, Minho, Frypan, I think Winston. Why can't we do it all at once? We'll get everyone in the Gathering hall and you can bring him in Gally. Promise you'll stay by him and stuff that should help."

It was hard to argue with Alby. He was coming in to his full stride as a leader and things were going really well for not only him but the whole Glade because of his decisions. There was no need to argue with Alby because he had never led them astray. Gally thought about countering his argument but quickly rethought it. Pigs would fly the day that Gally argued with Alby. "Yeah, alright. When should I get him?"

Alby picked back up his pen and started to focus back on the Glade's inventory. "Let's do it tonight. The longer we wait the more stories that will be made up."

Gally scratched his brow thinking about how difficult that would be. "I can help get him," Newt offered.

"No," he shot down quickly. "No. I'd better go alone, he trusts me."

"Take Minho with you then, that shank always does well with Allen." Alby said without looking up.

Out in the Dead Heads Allen was working on something completely reckless. Over the last two months he has been setting traps and was working on the final touches. Total there were nearly 36 traps laid out all through the trees. Most of the traps were large holes dug in the ground with spikes pointing up, covered by leaves and sticks to hide it. Others were a net trap, where something would trigger a large hand woven net covered by leaves and sticks to shoot up off the group and entangle the creature in the trees. Allen had effectively turn the entire wooded area of the Glade into a booby trap all because he was bored.

Over the last couple months he had become less numb to his new life and began to entertain himself by learning new skills but was no struggling to find things that interested him. Working primarily at night, away from everyone and only seeing Gally was isolating.

He was cripplingly bored. He had cut down enough trees to fuel the Glade for months and whittled enough sticks and tree trunks into artwork that it would make Picasso jealous. He'd learned how to make nets out of thin strips of fabric and soft tree bark. Allen had mastered the art of harvesting edible mushrooms and identifying different species of bugs.

As the result of a bad dream in which a Griever was trying to eat him, Allen went into a fit of paranoia and made one large trap in the furthest reaches of the Dead Heads. When he stood back to admire his initial handiwork he realized how much he enjoyed making the trap and continued to make more. Over the course of the last two months all of his energy went to chopping wood and setting more and more intricate traps to catch nothing in particular. It was just something to entertain himself and so he felt no need to tell anyone about all of the traps. No one came in here anyways, what was the point?

As Allen set his most recent net trap he heard the familiar strides of Gally entering the trees. He quickly covered his handy work and retreated from his masterpiece. As he entered the small opening where he kept his hammock and few odd trinkets, Gally walked into sight from the other side.

Allen gave him a friendly nod before he realized that Gally was accompanied by an additional person; Minho.

He gave Allen a wide smile, "Hey Al', long time no see." Minho was happy to see Allen but felt very indifferent towards the twin. Still heavily impacted by Greg's death, he tried his best to be friendly and respective of Greg's last wishes even if Allen reminded him of his dead brother.

Allen gave a broad smile. It'd been ages since he saw Minho. He pointed at Minho, that's all it took.

"I'm alright. Been busy, you know. Got more runners and stuff. I see you've been busy too." Minho responded as he looked around Allen's domain. Allen looked around with him, admiring his own work again then smiled and shrugged. "You've been doing ok, shank?"

He nodded with happy eyes. It was enough for Minho to let some of his guilt for not checking up on Allen subside. He seemed happy out here.

"Allen, Alby wants you to come with us and meet the rest of the Glade." Gally cut in, not liking the eager responses that Minho was getting.

Allen's face fell and in a very uninterested way, he shook his head 'no.'

"Now come on, no one's gonna hurt you. Some of the newbies have been spreading rumors about you and no one wants one of them coming out to bother you. We suspect if we introduce you they'll leave you alone. You want that, don't you? To me left alone." Gally looked at Minho for support.

"We'll be with you Al'. They're just a bunch of shucking kids anyways, you got nothing to worry about."

Gally wasn't completely right when he assumed Allen just wanted to be left alone. A part of him was starting to miss interacting with everyone else. He wanted to see his friends again. To help in the Glade. But in fear of change and judgement Allen nodded his head. He looked at Minho and gave him a look of _'when?'_

"Right now. Everyone's gonna be there, including us and Alby. So you won't be alone or nothin'."

Allen heaved a great sigh and weighed his options. Being gawked at by newbies or risking the chance of having newbies walking around in his freshly booby-trapped woods. The fear of seriously injuring someone far outweighed those of being social. He nodded.

Both of them were surprised how easy it was to convince Allen. _Maybe he was finally coming around,_ Minho thought with a bit of optimism. Even Gally was impressed and considered what it would be like if Allen started to transition back into the Glade. He didn't like the idea much.

Together the trio walked out of the Dead Heads and into the Glade. It was late evening and it was the first time in a long time that Allen had come out of the trees in sunlight. As he came out of the shadows Gally noticed that Allen was paler than most of the Gladers from staying in the shade all the time and it made her look more feminine. He would have to tell her that after the meeting.

Walking between Minho and Gally, Allen started to feel a little nervous. Someone had started a large bonfire in the Gathering Hall and she could see Shadows starting to move in the windows as the sun got lower. He stopped walking and tapped his collarbone three times.

Minho furrowed his eyebrow, not sure what that one meant. "What he sayin'?"

Gally watched Allen tap his collarbone again. "He wants to know if Newt will be there." He looked down at Allen and tried to comfort him, "Yeah he'll be there but I won't let him near you. Promise." With a hand on Allen's lower back, Gally gave him a small push forward to get him to walk again. Minho saw the contact and thought it was odd, he'd never seen Gally touch someone like that before, but didn't think more of it.

Minho walked into the Gathering Hall first, and stood on the right on the inside of the room. The talking silence as Minho arrived. Gally gave Allen a supportive nod and walked in next, taking position to the left of the door. By then everyone's undivided attention was on the door, anticipating this myth of a Glader.

Allen entered next and was struck in awe at how many new faces stared back at him. So many faces that he didn't recognize and that didn't recognize him. At first there was a spike of fear in Allen's chest but it turned to excitement. These people didn't know what he had been through. They didn't know his past or his story. Allen realized that with this group of people he had the potential to integrate back into the Glade without judgement.

"Everyone this is Allen," Alby said warmly.

Allen gave a weak smile.

"He's been the one maintaining the fire at night and keeping us warm -," It was as Alby continued introduce Allen that the first stifled laugh happened. It was a red haired boy whispering to one of his friends that made him giggle. "- he's been here just as long as Gally, Minho, and myself." The boys laughed a little harder and the audience started to notice. Alby paused and glared to silence them. "Allen has a long history in the Glade and he means no harm."

On the other side of the room a fit of laughter broke out. Allen's smile faded. Confused by what was so funny he had a growing suspicion that it had to do with him.

Alby stopped again, "Do you care to share what's so funny?" The question was cold. One that would make most intelligent people shut up and be respectful.

But whether it was because the boy who was still laughing didn't realize what was happening, or how pissed Alby was getting, or if it was the support from his friends nudging him in the ribs to say it but very passively the chuckling boy said, "He may not arm us, but we should be worried about the pigs."

A few muffled laughs broke out. The red head on the other side of the room found it hilarious, showing that he was whispering similar things.

The original Keepers looked appalled but didn't know how to control the situation.

"Looks like klunk too! Doesn't he?" Someone said loudly to the crowd.

It wasn't funny to Allen. It didn't make sense. But the roar of laughter from new Gladers caught him off guard. He paled in embarrassment and didn't waste any time leaving.

Into the dark he ran just before Alby yelled at the crowd and Minho reached out to push a few boys off the chairs in Allen's defense. It was too late, Allen would never see his friends standing up for him. He would never know they tried.

Gally ran after Allen. He had a hard time keeping up with him because of the head start and lack of light. "Allen! Stop!" he tried to call out. "Come on, they meant nothin' by it they were just messin' with you!"

Nothing slowed him down though as he entered the woods and expertly jumped over the roots and fallen branches scattered in the darkness. He didn't want to talk to Gally right now and probably won't want to tomorrow or any time soon.

"Agh!" A scream came from behind Allen loud enough to break his train of thought. He stopped dead and tried to listen over his heaving breathing. There was another yell for help and then another.

His stomach flipped as he realized that Gally most likely got caught in one of his traps. He ran back towards him hoping that he didn't fall into one with spikes at the bottom. As Allen neared Gally he heard a second noise moving towards the same location he was going.

 _Whirrrrrr. Click. Click._

"Allen, get me down from here you shucking slint head!"

 _Whirrrrrr. Click. Click._

Allen skidded to a stop just below Gally dangling from a net in the tree. "Allen what the klunk is wrong with you!?" He screamed down at him.

 _Whirrrrrr. Click. Click._


End file.
